


(can i) lay my heart to rest

by cori_the_bloody



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Femslash February, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, One Shot Collection, Recreational Drug Use, so far nothing's too explicit but i'll change the rating if that ends up not being the case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-20 11:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 19,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17621252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cori_the_bloody/pseuds/cori_the_bloody
Summary: Happy Femslash February - have a collection of H/V ficlets.Ratings and canon compliance vary considerably.





	1. Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, Bethany!
> 
> This chapter is G rated and canon divergent post-s2 finale.

“Whatcha doing out here?” Heather asks. “We’re about to demolish the big, fancy wedding cake.”

“Pass,” Valencia says, not looking away from the stars. She crosses her arms over her chest and pushes her shoulders down into the cushion of the patio lounger, feeling the way the curve of her spine twinges in protest. “You know I don’t eat sugar after eight o’clock.”

“Or before eight,” Heather says.

“Exactly.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, and Valencia assumes Heather’s sneaked soundlessly back into the house. But moments later, she speaks, making Valencia jolt.

“You okay, dude?”

She cranes her neck to look back at Heather, who’s not even watching her. Instead, her chin is tilted back so she, too, can take in the expanse of the night sky.

“I’m fine. If you want to check on someone, check on Rebecca.”

“I mean, I have,” Heather says. “But Paula’s mostly got emotional support covered there. So I’m asking about you.”

“I’m fine,” Valencia repeats harshly, hoping she’ll take the hint and go back inside.

When she doesn’t say anything, Valencia glances over her shoulder once more, surprised to find that Heather’s standing right above her all of a sudden.

“Make room,” she says, already crowding Valencia over to one side of the lounger.

Grumbling, Valencia scoots her hips until the right cheek of her ass presses uncomfortably into the arm of the chair. Heather settles at a diagonal onto the lounger, one of her feet planted on the ground and her head nestled into the crook of Valencia’s shoulder. Begrudgingly, Valencia moves her arm out from under Heather and lets it rest along the other girl’s.

Heather makes this contented humming noise when Valencia’s nails scrape softly at her bicep, and Valencia feels a lurch low in her stomach.

They sit quietly for several seconds, and Valencia thinks she might pass out, what with all her breath caught in her chest.

Heather, of course, is the one to break the silence. “You wanna know something?”

“What?” Valencia asks, less terse than she means to be.

“I used to be obsessed with space.”

Valencia lets out a surprised laugh, the bubble of air trapped in her chest punctured.

“Yeah. I spent two summers mowing my horrible neighbors’ lawns just to save up enough money to buy one of those fancy telescopes.”

“So what happened? You found out space wasn’t as cool as you thought it was going to be?”

Even Valencia hears the wistfulness in her own voice, so she’s grateful when Heather chooses not to comment.

“More like I found out space is boundless,” she says, shaking her head. Strands of her hair brush Valencia’s arm, making her want to squirm. “And thinking about all that,” Heather pauses to point up at the star-filled sky, “stretching on literally forever? That’s fucking terrifying.”

“I guess,” Valencia says quietly, looking from the chipped black nail polish on Heather’s pointer finger up to the soft light of the moon.

“But it’s also kinda cool, if you don’t think about it too hard.” Heather tilts her head back, and Valencia feels her searching gaze like the insatiable tug of a black hole. So what can she do but let her eyes answer the pull? “Knowing that there’s something actually, literally endless makes me grateful that I don’t have to go up against it.”

“You’re a nut,” Valencia says, her voice soft and her eyes unwavering.

Heather smiles. “A nut for impermanence.”

Valencia shakes her head. “I’m not gonna tell you what’s on my mind.”

“That’s fine,” Heather says, her grin growing more pronounced.

“But if I _were_ to tell you what’s on my mind,” Valencia says, glancing up at the stars, “maybe embracing impermanence is exactly the advice I’d need. _Maybe_.”

“Am I good or what?”

“I said maybe,” Valencia snaps.

“Twice,” Heather says, burrowing more closely into Valencia’s side, and Valencia can hear the smile in her voice. She closes her eyes.

She’s just about nodded off when Paula and Rebecca join them, silently pulling up the other patio chairs.

Sitting among her closest friends under the stars, Valencia lets go of the idea that she’s lost some vital part of herself when her second attempt to bind Josh Chan in marriage fell through and embraces the chance that she’s deliberately leaving behind something she no longer needs.


	2. Lazy Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated G for being fluffy as heck.

“I hate yoga,” Heather grumbles when Valencia’s alarm goes off at 6:00 on Saturday morning. She tries to press her face harder into her pillow to drown out the noise, and when that doesn’t work she adds, “And alarms.”

Valencia huffs as she half sits up in bed to turn off her buzzing phone. “You promised me you’d come to class. You wouldn’t break your promise now, would you?”

“I have a better idea,” Heather says, rolling over and flinging her torso over Valencia’s lap. “What if neither of us goes to yoga?”

“Heather.” Valencia’s voice is chastising, but she starts to comb Heather’s hair out of her face with gentle strokes.

“Valencia,” Heather responds, mock-serious.

“It’s my studio. I can’t just not go.”

“See, no, that’s exactly why it’s easy for you to cancel.” Heather turns her head in toward Valencia’s stomach and looks up at her with pleading eyes. “You just post on the Facebook page for the media-savvy yoginis and the rest of ‘em will figure it out when you don’t show up to unlock the building.”

Valencia frowns. “People paid already.”

“So refund them.”

“Heather,” Valencia says again, a bit of annoyance in her tone.

“Please, babe?” Heather pouts.

Valencia shakes her head, averting her eyes toward the ceiling. “Why should I?”

“You want me to make it worth your while?” Heather asks, grinning sleepily and nosing the hem of Valencia’s tank top up out of the way so she can press a kiss to the soft skin of her tummy.

Her muscles twitch in response, but Valencia’s voice is stern when she says, “That’s not what I meant.”

Heather gives Valencia another kiss and then lifts herself up off her lap so she can flop onto her side of the bed with a groan. “I got a letter yesterday.”

Valencia slides back down in bed a few inches, propping her head up on her elbow and watching Heather attentively. “Okay.”

“Basically, I’m supposed to declare a major so I can finally earn a degree and graduate.”

“And that’s…bad?” Valencia asks, lips thoughtfully pouty.

“I mean, no. But as soon as I do pick a major, I’ll only need to take a couple more classes and then I’ll be, like, locked into a future.”

Valencia grins then, and Heather narrows her eyes.

“What? Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“You’re gonna make a great psychologist someday.”

“Ew, no, I don’t want people to pay me for advice. Then there’s all this pressure for it to actually be, like, good.”

“Pastry chef?”

“I’m trying to get _out_ of food service.”

“Dentist?”

“What? No.”

“Geologist?”

Heather considers that. “Volcanoes are cool. Do geologists look at volcanoes?”

“I have no idea,” Valencia says with a laugh. Then, after a second of studying Heather’s face, she gets serious. “I guess we could put off life stuff until further notice.”

“Yeah, you know, I think I’ll be free for that sort of thing after one pm.”

“Oh, yeah? What do you have going on until then?”

Heather waggles her eyebrows. “Absolutely nothing.”

Valencia considers her for a second before reaching for her phone. She quickly types something before setting it back on the nightstand and sinking into bed.

Before she’s completely settled, Heather’s wrapping her arm around her waist and pulling her in close. She gives her a thank-you kiss on the soft skin just under Valencia’s ear before closing her eyes and nodding off.


	3. Sports Euphemisms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M because, well. euphemisms.

“I can’t believe I’ve worked here for almost a year,” Heather says, talking into Valencia’s neck as she walks them—guiding a backward-walking Valencia—to the stockroom, “and this is the first time I’m sneaking someone back here.”

“Am I supposed to be honored?” Valencia asks, her tone unimpressed as she arches her neck to give Heather better access. “Or disgusted you’re that much of a horn-dog that that’s some kind of record?”

Heather pushes open the swinging door and then catches Valencia’s ear lobe between her teeth. She gives it a gentle tug and releases it again.

“Come on, you’ve never fantasized about getting it on at work?” Heather asks.

Valencia puts a hand on her shoulder and stops in the middle of the room. Heather pulls her face away but keeps her arms wrapped securely around Valencia’s waist.

“I work in a yoga studio.”

“So…no?”

“So, people sweat there,” Valencia says, and Heather laughs. “What? I’m not gonna have sex on an unclean surface.”

“The showers, then,” Heather says, leaning back in and kissing her.

“Foot fungus,” Valencia says on an intake of breath, laughing into the kiss when Heather groans.

“Can you, I dunno, not talk about foot fungus when I’m in the middle of kissing you?” Heather asks, scrunching her nose.

Valencia feels the movement against her cheek and tilts her chin up to bump the end of Heather’s nose with her own.

“Stop imagining all the people you didn’t get to bring in here, then,” she counters.

“Oh, believe me,” Heather says, walking Valencia a couple steps until her back presses into the wall between two shelves. She gasps when she makes contact with the cool, painted brick. “I wasn’t picturing other people.”

Valencia lets out a pleased hum and Heather resumes the kiss, her hands soon finding their way to the hem of Valencia’s shirt.

“And when I’m in here tomorrow,” Heather says, pulling back from the kiss to speak and then moving in at a new angle. Her fingertips sneak under Valencia’s shirt, and the skin-on-skin contact—however minimal—makes Valencia arch her back. Heather grins against Valencia’s mouth and finishes her thought, “I’ll still be imagining you. Just with a few more visual aids.”

Valencia runs her hand up into Heather’s hair, cupping the back of her head and scraping lightly at her scalp. “Reality,” she says when Heather shivers, “is so much better than imagination.”

“Is that your way of telling me to get on with it already?”

Valencia shrugs and trails kisses from Heather’s cheek over to her favorite bit of ticklish skin where Heather’s jawline meets her ear.

At the same time, Heather smooths a hand around from Valencia’s back to the button of her jeans. Both of them squirm. “Who’s the horn-dog now?”

“Shut up,” Valencia says, and they both hear the unspoken plea in her voice.

“You know what’s funny?” Heather asks, taking her good old time dragging Valencia’s zipper open.

Valencia nips at Heather’s neck. “Don’t care.”

“We’re about to slide into second, but we’re already at Home Base.”

“Oh, my god,” Valencia says, not sure if she’s more annoyed or amused.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to dwell. Heather finally works her hand under the band of Valencia’s panties. Her head lolls forward, forehead resting on Heather’s shoulder.

Heather turns her head to whisper in her ear, “Let’s see if I can knock this out of the park.”

Valencia lets out a long-suffering sigh that doesn’t quite cover her titter of laughter. “It’s almost like you don’t want your fantasy to become a reality.”

“Hmm, no, that’s not it,” Heather says as she drags her fingers along Valencia with the lightest pressure. “I’m just savoring the moment.”

“Really?” Valencia asks, nosing aside the strap of Heather’s tank top. “Because I think you’re stalling trying to think of more baseball puns.”

“And totally striking out.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Valencia says, but they’re both laughing as Valencia grabs Heather’s face in both hands and kisses her quiet.


	4. Unusual Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M for suggestion.

It’s too humid to have left the windows open, but the low moan of the thick air rushing past is somehow the perfect soundtrack to the moment. The noise grounds Valencia in her own body. Makes her acutely aware of the way her fitted sheet has shifted under her, wrinkling and sticking to her slick lower back. She has a cramp in her right foot from holding it in a point for too long, her legs bent and her knees aimed at the corners of the room and her toes drilling down down down into the plush mattress.

The wail of the wind becomes desperate, and Valencia arches in response, coaxed into convexity by the agony of want. Heather shifts with her, performing her own homage to insatiable desire. She’s dripping with it, dripping down from the apex of Valencia’s thighs—body long and languid and unraveling—out into the dark void of everything that exists outside of the bed.

Does anything exist outside of this bed?

Fear slashes through Valencia. It’s like she’s stepped outside in the middle of winter and sucked in a cold, cold breath; it stings her lungs and clouds her throat until it feels like there’s a solid object stuck there.

Heather, always her perfect counterweight, always bringing balance to Valencia’s universe, slithers her way back up Valencia, drags herself back into the firm reality of everything on this bed. Outside, the wind kicks up, violently thrashing against stillness.

“You’re not looking in the right place,” Heather whispers in her ear, and Valencia can’t account for the thrill that goes through her, the foreboding pleasure she feels unfurl low in her stomach.

She tries to open her eyes, tries to take Heather’s advice to heart, but it seems her eyes are already open and there’s nothing to see but pitch dark.

Valencia’s spooked, shaking hands grope at her wrinkled sheets and at her own chest and at Heather’s shoulder blades until she finds what she’s really searching for. She feels Heather’s jaw move when she cups her face, feels the soft waves of sound disturb the air around them, but she doesn’t hear anything at all.

_Heather, I’m trying_ , Valencia tries to say, but her voice is muted and watery like she’s talking to herself at the very bottom of a deep pool. Her finicky fingers flex around Heather’s fine-boned face and something gives.

The winds roar so loud, Valencia trembles.

Unsure what else there is to do, she pulls Heather up over her like a threadbare quilt and goes about mapping what’s left of her with lips and teeth and tongue.

The more she tries to consume, the emptier she feels until there’s nothing left of her lover at all and the emptiness thickens into desolation.

The emotion is too heady to survive in her subconscious, and Valencia springs upright in bed as soon as she’s released from the dream.

Outside, the wind howls.

She should know better than to leave her window open during the Santa Ana Winds.


	5. Matching Outfits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's say this is rated T.

“I’m glad you convinced me to do this,” Heather says with a soft smile, watching the way the candlelight casts dancing shadows on Valencia’s face. “Today’s been really nice.”

“I told you. Five years is a big deal, and we deserve to celebrate the occasion,” Valencia says, a prickly edge in her voice. Like she’s prepared to fight for them taking the day off from their respective jobs all over again. But her fingers keep finding their way back to the pendant of the necklace Heather got her as a gift—a tiny elephant to replace the one that broke a few months back—reverently fidgeting.

Heather’s smile grows more pronounced. “Yup, you were right.”

The gruffness vanishes instantly, and Valencia smiles back. After a moment, her smile turns into something else entirely, and Heather feels the charge of the air between them shift.

“Stay here,” Valencia says. “I have something else for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Heather asks, gaze trailing after Valencia, who turns back to waggle her eyebrows as she disappears down the hall to their bedroom.

When she doesn’t come back right away, Heather starts to clear the table.

“Okay, maybe this is weird, but—” Valencia reappears, having changed into her long, silk morning yoga robe. Heather sets the plate she’d been scraping off down on the counter and gives Valencia her full attention. “—I got the idea when Rebecca was ranting about lingerie the other day.”

Heather feels her head loll forward and her eyes widen. “Oh-kay.”

Valencia lets the robe fall open, revealing a pearl pink, lacy negligee.

…and Heather starts laughing.

“This is your reaction?” Valencia asks, raising one eyebrow threateningly.

“No, wait,” Heather says, swallowing down her giggles. “I’m not—this has nothing to do with your appearance. You look hot, babe.”

The murderous gleam in Valencia’s eyes dims.

“I mean, on the tantalizing scale, you’re definitely an eight-point-five right now.”

Valencia crosses her arms over her chest. “An eight-point-five?”

“Yeah, totally.”

“That’s not very high.”

Heather laughs again and takes a step toward Valencia, letting her hands fall to her hips. “Sure it is. It’s like, right above your weirdly erotic yoga stretches, but below early Sunday mornings when you walk around the house in nothing but a t-shirt and water all our plants.”

“Shut up,” Valencia says, rolling her eyes. She lets her arms fall down to her sides, though, and takes a small step into Heather. “You do not find watering plants sexy.”

“When you do it, I do.”

“You’re weird.”

“Yeah.”

After a moment, Valencia ducks her head and asks, “Well, do you like your anniversary present?”

Heather grins and kisses Valencia’s forehead. “Hang on. I’ve got something to show you.”

Valencia trails after her toward the bedroom, clearly confused. Heather holds up a finger before disappearing into the bathroom.

When she comes out wearing the same negligee, just in powder blue, Valencia slaps a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the surprised half-laugh, half-shout that slips out of her.

“My thoughts exactly,” Heather says, giving a little spin.

“You did _not_ ,” Valencia says.

“I did. I figured we haven’t tried anything like this before and that it might be fun.”

“Well,” Valencia says, standing from where she’d perched on the edge of the bed and sashaying over to Heather. “It’s no you practicing archery in our backyard, but it’s still hot.”

Heather hums. “You like your women a little dangerous, huh?”

Valencia shrugs, and Heather takes the opportunity to tackle her onto their bed while her guard’s down.

“Happy anniversary,” she says once her breath returns to her.

Valencia kisses her in reply.


	6. Storm - or the pirate and the rogue scholar AU pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated G

“Ohmigod, we’re totally about to die, aren’t we? This is it, this is how it ends.”

“Can it, Maya,” Valencia snaps at her first mate, eyes on the wildly flapping main sail. The girl’s never been cool in a crisis—Valencia mostly keeps her around because she’s loyal despite a thousand harsh comments—but seeing as their ship’s being dismantled by the raging storm, she doesn’t have the time or even a shred of the patience required to talk Maya down.

Just then, thunder reverberates in the air around them and the sail tatters under the pressure of the wind.

Defeated, Valencia lets the rope slip from her hands.

“Uh, Boss—?”

Valencia pushes her sopping hair back off her forehead and nods in response to Maya’s unasked question. “It’s time to abandon ship. Prepare the lifeboat.”

Maya looks like she’s going to be sick. “I think, um, the others—”

Her captain’s roar of frustration is drowned out by another roll of thunder. This time the force of it shakes the deck below their feet. “Don’t they know you’re supposed to wait for the captain to give the order before you’re allowed to leave? Stupid, spineless, wannabe pirates.”

Lightning flashes in the sky, starkly illuminating Maya’s round, worried face.

Resigned to her fate, Valencia checks that her bit of stolen treasure remains on the chain around her neck. Satisfied, she pats Maya once on the cheek. “Guess it’s every woman for herself. If we both survive this, I’ll meet you in California, just like we planned.”

“What? What are you gonna…?”

Maya trails off, watching as Valencia kicks off her thick boots. Just as she’s about to take the dive into the ocean, Valencia glances back at her loyal follower. “Good luck.”

Maya’s responding nervous wave is the last thing she sees before she’s swallowed up by the cold and unforgiving waves.

###

She stirs, roused by the sound of distant, gently lapping waves, and for several disorienting moments assumes she’s still adrift. Or possibly dead.

Just in case it’s the latter, Valencia keeps her eyes screwed shut as she reaches up to feel around her neck. Though she feels a painful pull somewhere in the vicinity of her ribs, she ignores it in favor of a surge of panic so intense it nearly makes her vomit.

Her necklace is missing.

Valencia makes the sign of the cross, again disregarding the ache it causes, and starts reciting the Hail Mary in Spanish.

“Well this is, like, zero to sixty,” a nearby, flat voice says.

Valencia starts, the cot beneath her creaking.

Her eyes fly open, and a quick scan of her surroundings reveals a sparsely decorated room with a simple armchair, a large desk, and a bookcase displaying as many specimen boxes as it does books.

The voice belongs to a lean woman standing in the doorway leading outside—Valencia can just make out what she assumes to be a forest of green in the background. Her arms are crossed and she’s dressed practically: cargo pants, a simple blue tank top, and curls piled haphazardly on top of her head.

“What did you do to my necklace?”

The woman raises one eyebrow. “So you speak English. Good to know.”

Impatience mounting, Valencia tries to sit up. An involuntary cry of agony slips past her lips before she can lock her jaw against it.

The woman is by her side in a flash. “Yeah, I’m not a medical doctor or anything, but I think that’s a bad idea.”

“I’m fine,” Valencia says, but tears spring to her eyes as soon as she’s upright.

“Sure. You’ve been asleep for the past seventy-two hours because you’re totally fine.”

That gives Valencia pause. “I’ve lost three days?”

“Just about, yeah.”

“Where am I, exactly?”

“Moloaʻa Bay,” the woman tells her. When Valencia stares blankly, she adds, “Kauai?”

Valencia fights through the clouds of pain in her head, trying to remember why she recognizes the name. “Um, Hawaiian island, right?”

“Right.” The woman settles a hand on the small of Valencia’s back as she attempts to stand, trying to keep her steady. “Are you sure you don’t want to lie still a little longer? I think you might have a broken rib or two.”

“How close are we to a port?” Valencia asks, ignoring the woman’s questions.

She gives Valencia a funny look. “I mean, most commercial ports are on the other side of the island, but you can find fisherman pretty much anywhere along the coast.”

Valencia presses her lips together, thinking. She needs to prioritize and she needs a plan. As much as she’d love to send word to California for Maya right away, there’s no way she could ever show her face without her necklace.

“For what it’s worth,” the woman says, her calm, even voice breaking into Valencia’s thoughts, “I don’t think you should be traveling right now.”

“How did I get here?” Valencia asks, taking a couple tentative steps toward the door.

If the woman’s upset that her every bit of offered advice has gone unacknowledged, she doesn’t show it. She simply shrugs, and continues to answer Valencia’s questions in her matter-of-fact way. “Found you on the shore a few days ago while I was collecting data on the plants that grow in the sand.”

Valencia winces at the idea of a stranger finding her unconscious body, even if something about this woman’s unflappable manner is at war with Valencia’s distrustfulness. Still…

“Was I wearing a necklace when you found me?”

When the woman is silent for a prolonged beat, Valencia twists around to look at her. The movement stings, splinters of pain branching out from her center like a block of ice fissuring. Suddenly lightheaded, she sways on her feet, and the woman has to catch her, a firm but gentle arm wrapping around her waist.

“Easy,” the woman says, leading Valencia back to the cot. “That’s it. Nice and slow.”

“I’m fine,” Valencia says, her voice weak.

“Not that it’s any of my business,” the woman says, “but you should probably stop being an idiot.”

“Hey!”

“I’m just saying. You’ve clearly put your body through a lot. And I’m not rushing you out the door or anything, so maybe you should hang out for a couple days.”

Valencia narrows her eyes, feeling a strong urge to protest. Stubborn as she may be, though, she can’t simply ignore the splint in her ribs, the way her breath comes in labored pants after walking only a couple steps.

“I’m also not barricading the door or anything,” the woman adds as she leaves Valencia’s bedside, correctly reading the wariness in her silence.

“I suppose I owe you some gratitude,” Valencia says, watching through narrowed eyes as the woman walks for the exit with casual indifference.

“You know how you can thank me?” the woman asks, barely turning her head as she stops in the doorway. “Don’t undo all the work I’ve put into keeping you alive.”

With that, she disappears into the bright light of the midday sun.

After sitting in silence for several moments, Valencia settles back down on the cot, begrudging respect forming alongside an unnerving impotence.


	7. Nail Polish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hector? Who's that?
> 
> Rated G

The tiny, electric blue bottle catches Heather’s eye as she makes her millionth circuit around the room. She pauses, staring at for a long moment before deciding that’s all the excuse she needs.

She slips it into her bag on her way out the front door.

“What are you doing?” Valencia asks twenty minutes later when she answers Heather’s frantic knocking. “Here to yell at me some more?”

Heather presents her with the bottle of nail polish. “You left this in my room.”

Valencia cocks an eyebrow at her, unamused. “So?”

“So I came to return it.”

Valencia crosses her arms over her chest and stares stonily into Heather’s eyes.

After a moment, Heather drops her gaze to her shoes, feeling heat crawl up the back of her neck. “And to apologize for what I said.”

Wordlessly, Valencia lets the door to her apartment fall open.

Still unable to look Valencia in the eyes, Heather takes her time shutting the door behind her before turning and facing the living room.

Valencia’s leaning into the kitchen island with her hips and examining the bottle of nail polish. “I don’t think this is even mine.”

“Yeah, well, it was more of a pretense anyway.”

The bottle makes a soft clinking noise as Valencia sets it down on the counter. Then she raises her eyebrows expectantly at Heather.

“Right,” Heather says. “So, that was shitty of me to say…what I said. About you just wanting attention.”

“Duh,” Valencia says, and Heather lets out a humorless laugh.

She feels the urge to start pacing this room, but keeps her feet rooted firmly in place. After an awkwardly prolonged moment, she forces out, “Beth seems nice.”

“She is. Unlike you.”

Heather punches her balled up fist into her thigh a couple times, letting Valencia’s anger wash over her. For the first time it really hits her, how badly she fucked up. How completely she let her friend down.

“Could we maybe try this again?” she asks.

Valencia tilts her head to the side. “What?”

“Like, you tell me your news again, and I’ll be an actually supportive friend.”

“What if I don’t trust you with my news anymore?” Valencia asks.

Heather punches her thigh even harder. “Yeah, okay. That’s fair.”

Valencia grunts in acknowledgement.

“Alright, well, I’m really sorry I was such a crappy friend, and yeah. I guess I’ll let myself out.”

She’s already twisting the handle to the door when Valencia says, “Wait. I have something I need to tell you.”

Heather pulls her lips into her mouth, stifling a hopeful smile as she turns back around. “Mm-hmm?”

“I have this new client and she’s a woman.”

“You don’t say.”

“Yeah, and I think she’s been flirting with me.”

“Well you _do_ rock the party planner pantsuit look.”

For the first time since Heather arrived at her apartment, Valencia cracks a smile. “Shut up.”

Heather’s heart gives a pleasant lurch.

“Go on,” she says.

“Well…” Valencia trails off, grabbing the nail polish bottle off the counter and rolling it between her palms. “I think I might want to, you know, flirt back.”

Heather nods. “That’s kinda big, huh?”

“Too big,” Valencia says automatically, her eyes wide and pleading. “It all just feels like too much. I want it too much to ignore it. It scares me too much to just act on it.” Her voice gets tight, pitch mounting as she continues. “Too many thoughts all at once and how am I supposed to process any of it?”

“Hey,” Heather says soothingly. She moves in front of Valencia and places her hands on her shoulders, running her palms down the length of her forearms and then back up again. “I think that’s all pretty normal.”

“Who cares about what’s normal for other people?” Valencia snaps. “It’s not normal for me!”

“Okay, sure.” Heather can’t help herself: the petulant edge in Valencia’s voice makes her want to chuckle. She settles for a small, fond smile. “But at least I found it helpful to read how other people reacted—it can help you decide how you want to deal with things for yourself.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

Heather gives Valencia’s arms a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll send you some resources.”

“So wait.” Valencia’s eyes scan Heather’s face. “Are you gay?”

“I mean,” Heather says, dropping her arms to her sides, “I definitely like dudes. That’s just not all I like.”

“I didn’t know.”

“It’s not a secret or anything,” Heather says.

Realization flashes across Valencia’s face, and she sets the bottle of nail polish down roughly. “So if you’ve been through this, why were you such an asshole earlier?”

Heather raises her eyebrows. “You wanna know the truth?”

Valencia nods.

“I dig you,” she says with a shrug. “And I’m not proud of making your moment about me, but I’d kinda written off the chance that you were into girls a while ago. So when it turned out you might be, just obviously not into me…” Heather trails off with a grimace. “I’m sorry I acted like such a jealous ass—”

Before she’s finished, Valencia grabs her face in both hands and kisses her hard. It’s over before Heather can really react, and she draws in a deep breath as soon as Valencia’s lips have disappeared from overtop hers, trying to banish the dizziness from her head.

“You really shouldn’t reward me for being a dick,” she says, voice as wobbly as her thoughts.

“Like you pointed out,” Valencia says, curling her fingers into Heather’s shirt, “this isn’t about you.”

This time, when Valencia kisses her, she’s ready for it.


	8. Confession – or the pirate and the rogue scholar AU pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third and final part of this AU will be coming to you on day 16.  
> This part is rated G.

Valencia ends up staying on the island longer than a couple days. It’s only practical for her to hang around, between her missing necklace and her broken rib.

“How’re you feeling today?” the woman—Valencia now knows her name is Heather—asks her on the morning of her twelfth day there. She always stops by to check in before disappearing somewhere for several hours at a time, leaving Valencia to her own devices for most of the day.

“Pretty good, actually,” Valencia says, sitting up in her cot. “I might attempt a walk today.”

Heather raises her eyebrows and hikes her satchel further up her shoulder. “You want some company?”

Valencia hears her unspoken _just in case_ , but finds she doesn’t mind it coming from Heather.

“Okay, sure.”

“Cool. How do you feel about birds?”

Valencia feels her eyebrows come together. “Is that a trick question?”

“More like my current project,” Heather says. Even after nearly two weeks of living with her, Valencia isn’t clear on what Heather does with her time. In tearing apart the hut and putting it back together in a meticulous search for her necklace, she’s found dozens of notebooks full of notes, but no clues as to their ultimate purpose.

“Then, uh, neutral,” Valencia says. “I’m neutral on birds.”

Heather frowns thoughtfully, nodding. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”

###

Heather leads her into the forest that nearly surrounds her hut.

At first, Valencia feels her spirits lifting at being outside for the first time in a while. But after only a few minutes of navigating the uneven terrain and climbing around mossy boulders and stumps, her ribs start to protest.

She only makes it a few more yards before the pain gets so bad, she can no longer ignore it.

“I have to stop here,” she tells Heather, already lowering herself to the ground and leaning against a tree trunk.

“No worries,” Heather says, joining her. “Here’s perfect.”

Valencia follows the line of Heather’s pointing finger to a group of small, yellow birds bouncing around the branches of a nearby tree. She grunts in acknowledgement, worried that if she opens her mouth now, only whimpers would come out.

Instead, she watches quietly as Heather unpacks a notebook, some camera equipment, and a block of wood from her satchel. After jotting a few things down at the top of a clean page in her notes, she slides a pocket knife from her cargo pants and starts whittling away at the block.

After several minutes of watching Heather carve into the wood without ever slicing into her finger though she only casts sparing glances at her hands, Valencia speaks.

“What are you doing?”

“Tracking the mating patterns of the 'anianiau,” Heather says matter-of-fact.

“Okay,” Valencia says. “Why?”

Heather shrugs. “I’m learning all I can about the ecosystem here.”

Valencia’s eyebrows crawl high on her forehead. “Why?”

Heather smiles to herself, letting her hands fall slack in her lap. “Now that’s a loaded question.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, why does anyone study anything?”

“Are you being intentionally dodgy?”

“Haven’t you been since you got here?” Heather asks, though her voice is kind enough.

“That’s different.”

“Sure,” Heather says, marking down something in her notebook. After they sit in tense silence for a moment, she sighs and says, “I was a student. I kept trying to get funding for this project, but no one would pay for _and_ endorse my methods of data collection—which is, like, the whole point of my research plan but whatever. Anyway, eventually I decided academia could fuck itself and came here anyway.”

“All by yourself?” Valencia asks, watching Heather a little more closely.

“Yeah, well. That part was always the plan.”

“Sounds lonely.”

Heather doesn’t say anything for a long while, and Valencia eventually turns her attention back to the birds. When Heather bumps her with her shoulder, she jolts. “So what about you, huh? What’s your story?”

“Oh, it’s not that interesting.” Valencia says, color pooling in her cheeks.

Heather shoots her a funny look. “Pretty sure if that were the case, you wouldn’t be here.”

Valencia feels like the skin on her face is getting tighter. “It’s dumb.”

After a moment of watching her with searching eyes, Heather nods and returns to her carving.

Something drops, heavy and leaden, low in Valencia’s stomach. “I thought I loved a man who seemed like he loved me back,” she starts. “But I guess both of us misjudged. And I only really figured this out after committing to the ruse for years and years before he left me with nothing.”

Heather raises her eyebrows. “And?”

“And nothing.”

“No way is _that_ the end of your story, dude.”

Valencia scoffs. “And what would you know about it?”

“I’m just saying, your average jilted woman rarely ends up washing ashore in the middle of a storm.” Valencia’s about to cut in, but Heather’s faster. “Also, can we talk about the fact that you were on the ocean during one of the biggest storms of the year?”

“So?”

“So, no one sails into that weather unless they’re incredibly stupid or reasonably confident in their skills.” Heather looks Valencia right in the eye. “You don’t strike me as stupid.”

In spite of herself, Valencia feels a smile starting to form on her face. She ducks her head.

“I, uh, take on missionary work where it’s available.”

“Oh, my god,” Heather says, her voice getting conspiratorially low. “Are you a hit woman?”

“What?” Valencia squawks, making the birds flutter nervously. She clears her throat and adds in a calm, even voice, “No.”

“A vigilante?” Heather guesses.

Valencia rolls her eyes. “Close enough, I guess.”

“And so the necklace you’ve been bugging out about since you got here—what’s that?”

“I haven’t been bugging.”

Heather raises her eyebrows. “Full-on meltdown.”

“Well excuse me for not being calm and well-adjusted after waking up in a strange place in strange clothes with a stranger looking after me.”

“Yeah, I’ll give you that,” Heather says. “That’s a lot.”

“I’m lucky the stranger was you, though,” Valencia adds quietly after a beat.

“I’m lucky you’re not a hit woman,” Heather says back, a teasing smile in her eyes.

Valencia finds herself smiling in response.

After that, they lapse into silence once more, Heather carving her block of wood and Valencia admiring her steady, sure movements.

Valencia’s not sure how long they sit there—she’s pretty sure she nods off at some point—but when the light starts filtering into the forest between the trunks of the trees, Heather gently nudges her. They pack up in companionable silence.

“So,” Heather says as they set off, a barely-detectable nervous tremor in her voice. “I feel like I owe it to you to tell you something.”

“Okay,” Valencia says, grabbing hold of Heather’s offered hand as they step over a fallen log.

“You didn’t have a necklace on when I found you.”

Valencia freezes, dropping Heather’s hand immediately.

Heather watches Valencia face for a moment before forging on. “I mean, I guess it’s possible it was somewhere there on the beach, but I didn’t notice anything. I was kinda distracted—you were in a bad way—but yeah. No necklace.”

Valencia swallows hard. “How come…?”

“I didn’t tell you when you asked?” Heather suggests. Valencia nods dumbly, and Heather winces. “It seemed like the thing to do at the time. To get you to take it easy.”

“You manipulated me.”

“It seemed like the thing to do at the time,” Heather says again.

A few thoughts race through Valencia mind, but she shakes the din away. “Show me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Show me where you found me,” Valencia demands.

“Yeah,” Heather says with a small frown. “Okay.”


	9. Senseless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T for recreational drug use

Valencia throws her arm up, gesticulating at the television. “See what I mean? This movie doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah, you really aren’t getting it, huh?” Paula asks, shaking her head somberly.

“None of them make sense, babe,” Heather says, taking a drag on her joint before passing it to Valencia. “Not when you start to look super hard at the plot.”

“I mean, that’s distracting, too,” Valencia says. “Why watch a movie with no plot?”

“To watch pretty people fall in love,” Rebecca says, casting Valencia a dirty look.

“But I’m more talking about—” Valencia pauses, taking in a deep breath, exhaling smoke, and then passing the joint back to Heather. “—the fact that I’m supposed to buy Adam Sandler as someone worthy of Drew Barrymore’s time.”

Heather snorts.

“Because it’s about who he is as a person and how he treats her,” Rebecca says, way too earnest. It makes Valencia feel bad about not taking her gurl’s quest to show her all the rom-coms she missed in high school and college—Josh and his dumb friends had monopolized movie time with their dumb action films—more seriously. That is, until she continues with, “That stuff makes it not matter that he’s not conventionally attractive.”

“He’s not actually that nice, though. I mean, he’s super harsh on that woman whose crime was, what? Not wanting to marry him. Good for her for getting out when she could!”

“You know, that’s actually a compelling point,” Paula says, wagging her finger at Valencia.

Rebecca throws a piece of popcorn at her.

Valencia continues. “And why should Drew have to compromise on looks? I’m sure she could find someone who’s pretty _and_ actually a decent human being to marry her.”

Heather snickers and Valencia whaps her in the thigh.

“Why are you laughing at me?”

“That’s just, like, the gayest rant you’ve ever gone on.”

Valencia rolls her eyes, but she can’t help the blush that works its way into her cheeks. “Shut up.”

“I liked it,” Heather says, bopping Valencia’s on the nose before leaning in for a kiss.

“PDA,” Rebecca says. “Plus, you’re not paying attention!”

“I thought you came here to see two pretty people be in love?” Heather asks, before turning back to Valencia.

Paula _boo_ s the cheesy line, and Rebecca throws popcorn at them this time.

Eyes closed and smiling into the kiss, Valencia flips them the bird.


	10. Three A.M.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated D for domestic as fuuuuuck
> 
> For real, this one's rated G and causally takes place in this [cat-containing universe](http://catty-words.tumblr.com/tagged/shadow-and-esperanza).

“Babe, come on,” Heather says, nudging the sleeping Valencia as she pulls into their driveway. “You gotta get up.”

Valencia’s voice is a soft murmur when she asks, “Why?”

Heather licks her lips as she puts the car in park and turns it off, hiding a grin. “Because we’re home.”

“Carry me in,” Valencia says, head drooping pitifully to the side.

“If you’re awake enough to be making demands, you’re awake enough to walk,” Heather says. “Also, like, no.”

“You’re no fun.” Valencia pouts, but slowly reaches down to unbuckle her seatbelt—making a big production of it, like she’s moving through molasses—before pushing open the car door.

“Yeah, my desire to not throw out my back is a real downer,” Heather says, following after her.

Their cat, Shadow, appears from nowhere when they push open the door to their house, and starts weaving in and out of Heather’s legs as she steps out of her shoes and makes her way for the kitchen.

Valencia, without even bothering to take off her boots, heads straight for the bathroom and shuts the door with a soft click.

Without turning on any overhead lights—Heather’s eyes are already adjusting to the muted white moonlight floating through the windows—she gets a glass from the cupboard and starts to fill it with water from the tap.

Time warps the way it does in the wee hours of the morning, and even though she’s pretty sure she only stands there leaning against the sink watching Shadow’s tail twitch for a minute or two, it also feels like maybe an eon slinks by.

When she finally gets to the bottom of the glass, she dumps out the last few swallows and goes to brush her teeth.

As she passes the fridge, she notices Rebecca’s left them a note—probably while she’d been there cat-sitting—held up by their Welcome to West Covina magnet she’d gotten them as a housewarming gift. Heather similes to herself, but decides to save actually reading it until the morning.

Well, later in the morning, anyway.

Valencia’s tucked deep in the covers by the time Heather finally climbs in bed, but when she shifts so they’re face-to-face, Heather can see she’s wide awake.

“Hey,” Valencia says.

“Hey.” Heather kisses the tip of Valencia’s nose.

“Do you think—?”

“We’ve been over this, V,” Heather says, stifling a yawn. “You did an amazing job tonight.”

“But do you think the Plimptons will hire me again? I mean, they’re loaded, and I’d really like to keep them as a contact.”

“How are you even still awake right now? It’s—” Heather lifts her head to check the clock on Valencia’s nightstand. “—3:27 in the morning.”

“I slept the whole drive back.”

“From LA.”

“With traffic it was what? A four-hour nap?”

Heather lets her head fall forward, her forehead bumping Valencia’s. “Based on the size of the bonus check Nathaniel’s mom wrote for you, I’d say they’d hire you again.”

“But what if that’s the bonus they give any old Charley who works for them? Like, they were really just blowing me off?”

“Come on,” Heather says, nudging her nose into Valencia’s. “I know you have more confidence in your work than that. You killed it tonight.”

After a moment, Valencia hums. “Yeah, it was a kick-ass party. Cordy Wakefield _wishes_ she could throw a bash that extravagant.”

Heather pulls away, eyebrows coming together. “Who?”

Valencia rolls her eyes. “Cordy Wakefield. She just came on the party-planning scene last month.”

Heather works her arm around Valencia’s waist and plants her palm in the center of her back, pulling her closer. “How come this is the first I’m hearing about her, then?”

“Well I thought it was nothing,” Valencia explains. “But then I found of a few nights ago that one of my regulars defected.”

“Does brand loyalty mean nothing to people anymore?”

“This is serious!” Valencia shoves Heather’s shoulder in reproach.

“Okay,” Heather says, shifting onto her back. Valencia curls in closer to her side. “I acknowledge that I shouldn’t make fun of your concerns, but, babe. It’s one person. You’ve been at this for years. Your business is solid.”

“You’re saying I’m making something out of nothing?”

“I’m saying it’s too early to get seriously worked up about it—both, like, in terms of the situation at hand and time of day.”

Valencia shakes her head, her hair tickling Heather’s chin. “You’re tired.”

“Um, duh.”

“Want me to sing you a lullaby?”

“Yes,” Heather says, calling her bluff, “please.”

Valencia tilts her head up to nip at Heather’s jaw in response before they both fall silent for several moments.

Heather’s almost asleep when Valencia speaks again. “Heather?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you. Didn’t want to fall asleep without telling you that.”

Heather smiles and kisses the top of her head. “I love you, too.”

She’s asleep within the space of a breath.


	11. Coming Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My obsession with my ships hugging is alive and well, as you can see.

All Heather can think about as she fumbles with her keys is the foot bath Valencia had gotten her for Christmas and showering.

Her double shift at Home Base had been particularly brutal—drunk moms arguing with her about the rideshare service and a broken part on the fryer and having to fire someone who’d just started and _standing for twenty hours straight_.

“Hey!” Valencia greets her as soon as she gets the door open. “How was work?”

Heather groans, drawn-out and guttural.

Valencia laughs. “So you had a good day, then?”

Heather throws her keys down into the tiny dish in their front hall. She’s all prepared to give Valencia the ‘You’re Cute but Don’t Talk to Me until I’ve Slept’ speech, but then she rounds the corner into the kitchen.

The foot bath is already set up at Heather’s usual spot at the table, which is set with all the fixings for tacos.

Heather nearly collapses on the spot. As it is, grateful tears spring to her eyes.

“Oh, my god,” she says, “come here.”

Valencia gets up from the table, letting the magazine she’d been looking at fall closed, and gives Heather a curious eyebrow raise.

In response, Heather reaches out and circles her fingers around Valencia’s wrist, giving a gentle tug. Valencia comes easily, shuffling into Heather with a breathy laugh.

Heather wraps her arms all the way around Valencia’s shoulders until her elbows nearly touch and buries her face in the crook of Valencia’s neck. She lets all her breath out in a slow, steady stream until she’s deflated completely, relying almost entirely on Valencia to hold her up.

Valencia turns her face into Heather’s hair, and Heather feels her breath on her scalp as Valencia noses aside a curl.

“You smell,” she says, but Heather can hear the smile in her voice.

“So do you but like…like home.”

Valencia makes a surprised noise in the back of her throat, and pushes her hands up under Heather’s blazer, working her arms around Heather’s waist and squeezing tight.

They stand still like that for so long, Heather nearly falls asleep.

“You should eat something,” Valencia says finally, pressing a kiss into the top of Heather’s head.

“Two more minutes,” Heather says, skimming the tip of her nose along Valencia’s shoulder. Valencia squeezes her tighter.

Heather’s tacos get cold.


	12. Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another ficlet that takes place in this [cat-filled alternate universe](http://catty-words.tumblr.com/tagged/shadow-and-esperanza).

“Okay, before you come inside,” Heather says, unexpectedly opening the front door before Valencia finishes fishing her keys out of her bag. “I need you to close your eyes.”

“What is happening?” Valencia asks, though she’s already holding her hands up to obstruct her vision. Only rarely is she confronted with manic Heather, but the result is always pretty endearing—like the one time she reorganized all their cabinets by frequency of use so they wouldn’t have to use their step stool as often while Valencia was off on a weekend yoga retreat.

“It’s a surprise,” Heather says, fingers wrapping around Valencia’s forearm to help guide her over the threshold.

“Oh,” Valencia says, suddenly skeptical.

“No, babe, I know you don’t like surprises, but I’m pretty sure you’ll like this.”

“Okay.” The word comes out a disbelieving sing-song, but she allows herself to be ushered into the living room without protest.

“Oh, man,” Heather says when they round the corner. “Stupid cats.”

“What happened?” Valencia asks, already moving her hand and opening her eyes.

Boxes litter the living room, many of them with little window- or door-shaped cutouts in them, all of them colored to resemble the outside of their own house.

“I leave you alone with the tower for one minute,” Heather says, already roughly scooping Esperanza into her arms and holding her tight against her chest—the standard form of punishment. “And this is what you do to it?”

“You built our cats a replica of our house?” Valencia asks, raising her eyebrows.

“I built them the tower version of our house,” Heather amends. “And it was freaking cute.”

“I have no doubt,” Valencia says, bending over to unbuckle her shoes.

“Too bad cats are monsters that ruin everything,” Heather coos at Esperanza before dumping her onto the couch. Then she starts stacking the boxes inside each other and setting them out of the way. “I’ll have to reinforce them next time. Or maybe build a sturdier foundation.”

“Possibly both,” Valencia says, helping once she’s kicked off her sandals.

Heather pauses to point at Valencia. “Now you’re thinking.”

###

Over dinner that night, Heather pulls out her phone and shows Valencia all the pictures she’d taken of the construction process.

“I see Shadow and Za-Za were dutiful helpers,” she says, smiling at a picture of Shadow trying to crawl up Heather’s back while she’s bent over one of the boxes.

“Super helpful,” Heather says.

Valencia can feel her eyes on her face as she scrolls through a few more of the pictures.

“Be honest,” Heather says. “It would have been a welcome surprise, right?”

“Oh, there would have absolutely been squealing,” Valencia says.

Heather grins, pleased with herself.

“I’ll get you one of these days,” she vows. “When you least expect it.”

Valencia waggles her eyebrows “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

It takes a moment, but when the joke hits, Heather shakes her head and flicks some rice at Valencia with a laugh.


	13. Tease

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T

As soon as Heather’s finished draping the blanket over their laps, Valencia’s hand lands on her thigh.

“Okay,” Rebecca says, dancing in her spot in the middle of their living room. “Welcome to the third ever bi-monthly couples game night.”

“Thanks for being so flexible about the location, guys,” Paula says, wincing apologetically at Heather. “It’s just, with Tommy getting the flu and all my time lately being devoted to studying for my Environmental Law final, our house is germ central.”

“We don’t mind having it here,” Valencia says, and she drags her fingers back and forth almost imperceptibly, tickling the inside of Heather’s thigh.

Heather bites down on her bottom lip for a moment and then manages a causal laugh. “Yeah, I mean, this is definitely more convenient for me.”

Valencia digs her nails into Heather’s skin, making an affirming noise in the back of her throat that only Heather can hear.

She swallows hard in response.

“So it was my turn to choose the game,” Rebecca says, commanding everyone’s attention again. “Does anyone wanna guess what I picked?”

“Charades?” Scott guesses gamely.

At the same time, Valencia says, “Please don’t let it require singing.”

Rebecca waggles her eyebrows, and Valencia’s grip on Heather’s thigh gets uncomfortably tight.

Heather clears her throat before saying, “You were supposed to run your shortlist by me, remember?”

“I do remember,” Rebecca says, “but I decided against it becaaaaauuse…” She draws out the word just long enough for the bit to lose all charm. “We’re playing Harry Potter Scene It!”

“Oh, my god,” Heather says, dropping her head into her hands.

Across the room, Paula and Scott share a bemused look.

“Please tell me you’re not just using this as extended foreplay,” Valencia says, gesturing to Nathaniel with her free hand.

“What? That’s—we’d never—that’s—” he sputters.

Rebecca throws him the remote to the television, mercifully silencing him. Then she pointedly looks between Heather and Valencia. “Whatever, Miss I Forgot What Personal Space is as soon as I Got a Girlfriend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Valencia says, inching her hand up higher until her fingers work their way to the hem of Heather’s pajama shorts.

Heather shifts in her seat. She’s not exactly trying to encourage Valencia, but she does end up giving her an in, and before she can really settle back into a comfortable position, Valencia’s fingers are bushing against her underwear.

She coughs in response and hopes her expression is more or less composed.

“We’ll go first, obviously,” Rebecca says, plopping herself down in Nathaniel’s lap. “Show everyone how it’s done.”

“Yay, fun,” Paula says with weak enthusiasm, complete with pitiful fist pumping.

###

In the end, it doesn’t matter that Heather can’t focus on anything but the slightest twitch of Valencia’s fingers. Rebecca and Nathaniel’s demonstration of how the game will work quickly devolves into them arguing heatedly about what happened in the books versus what happened in the movies.

When it becomes clear that this isn’t going to wrap up any time soon, Paula and Scott start cycling through Paula’s flashcards.

Valencia gives Heather’s inner thigh a squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” Heather says quietly, sneaking her hand under the blanket to catch Valencia’s wrist. “But I can’t do this with you against the backdrop of an argument about Ron Weasley’s characterization. I just can’t.”

Valencia pouts. “Block it out.”

“Babe,” Heather says, widening her eyes. “You think if that was an option I’d still be listening?”

A second passes with no reaction at all, and then Valencia’s getting to her feet abruptly. “Okay, that’s it,” she says. “I’m calling this game night. If at any point you freaks pick a real game, you can knock on the door and Heather and I will consider coming out. If not, it was nice to see you, Paula. Goodnight.”

She storms off in the direction of Heather’s room, leaving a blushing Heather, an amused Paula, and an incensed Rebecca in her wake.

“Um,” Heather says, getting woozily to her feet and starting to follow behind. “What she said.”

###

No one ends up knocking.


	14. Love Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're officially halfway through the month! Happy Valentine's Day, y'all.
> 
> I have no idea why I wrote teeth-decaying fluff for nearly every other day, but then came up with an angsty idea for today but. Well. Here we are.

“I’m going to pick up dinner,” Beth says, wrapping a scarf around her neck. “I should be back in twenty.”

“Thanks, babe,” Valencia says, turning away from her task of setting up their desk to blow her girlfriend a kiss.

A few moments after the front door falls shut, Valencia finishes with the box she’d been unpacking. She grabs the next one from the stack on the windowsill, noticing Heather’s handwriting scrawled along the front.

She hums thoughtfully to her herself, using scissors to slice through the thick layer of tape. Sure enough, the contents of the box don’t look familiar.

She’s about to re-tape add it to the pile of things she and Heather got mixed up while packing together when a purple Trapper Keeper catches Valencia’s eye. A series of colorful doodles litter the front of it, compelling her to pull the hefty binder out of the box.

Already missing home and her friends, Valencia runs her fingers over a graffiti-style doodle that says #GurlGroup4Evah and smiles to herself. She notices that some of the art curls around the front to the inside, so, curiously, she undoes the Velcro and flips the keeper open.

Immediately, a note flutters to the ground.

“Shoot,” Valencia says, dropping the keeper back into the box and bending over to get the sheet of paper. She freezes when she notices her name on the top, and then gingerly plucks the letter off the floor to get a closer look.

_Dear Valencia_ , it says.

_Y’know how Dr. Shin’s got Rebecca on this big letter writing campaign? Well, I gotta admit, I’m kinda intrigued by the letter as a vehicle for closure. You might be asking, why do you need closure, Heather? So I’m just gonna come right out and say it: I’ve got a pretty serious crush on you._

Valencia’s heart jumps up into her throat, and she presses the sheet of paper into her chest. She should stop reading there. Heather didn’t actually send her this note, and it’d be rude to keep going.

After a second, Valencia glances back down.

_I’ve had it for a while. Definitely since that time Rebecca kidnapped you, but, if I’m being honest (and I’m basically writing this letter to myself, so why shouldn’t I be?) it dates back even before that, to Rebecca’s weird party bus trip. I mean, it didn’t really mean anything back then. You’re hot and it was fun to watch you boss around Greg and Josh. So. A superficial crush at its finest._

_The more I got to know you, though, the more it was, idk, more than that. I admire the way you take everything so seriously, but that you still open the door to a friend in need when you’re in the middle of a crisis. I mean the being hot thing definitely still factors in, too. And I feel happy whenever you’re around. Like, I don’t even have to see you. My day is instantly improved even if you just text me. And that’s huge._

_But it seems dumb to keep carrying this torch around. ~~For the sake of the gurl group~~ ~~You’re obviously straight and I’m not the kind of~~ Hector and I have something. He also makes me happy just by being around, and it’s not fair of me to keep lowkey pining after you while I’m with him._

_So, uh, here’s hoping just writing about my feelings is enough to make them go away. It would suck if I actually had to send the letter for this thing to work._

_Yours no longer. Or in friendship. Or something._

_Heather_

Valencia’s in the middle of reading the letter over again when she hears rustling in the hall and then the sound of keys jangling. Panicked, she folds the letter up and slips it into the front pocket of her hoodie.

“Living in the city’s so cool,” Beth’s already saying before she has the door fully open. “There’s this costume shop at the end of our block that I think we should check out and like three different restaurants to try.”

Valencia tries to will her smile into something resembling natural. “That sounds great.”

Beth continues to describe her foray out into the neighborhood, but Valencia’s mind wanders to the ticket she booked back home for Christmas.

Later that night, after Beth’s asleep, Valencia sits down at the desk and rips a piece of lined paper out of a random notebook.

After a second of staring off into space, she starts to write.

_Dear Heather…_


	15. Playlist

“C’mon, V. This is definitely not in the spirit of the adventure,” Heather says, leaning in their bedroom door. Her backpack is hanging off one shoulder and her shoes are already on, though not laced up.

“Have you ever been on a road trip without good music?” Valencia asks, leaning over her laptop on the bed. A bunch of clothes are haphazardly strewn around her. “It’s dull.”

“We have each other to talk to,” Heather points out.

Valencia glances up to give her an ‘Aw, That’s Cute but Stupid’ smile. Heather presses her lips tight, a little amused in spite of herself.

“Okay, well, you have another minute to wrap it up, or this passes from impulsive to train-wrecked-before-we-begin territory.”

“Two minutes,” Valencia says, returning her attention to the laptop. “I have to get the playlist just right.”

“Well, let me see,” Heather says, taking a step into the room.

Valencia picks up the laptop and holds it close to her chest. “No! It’s a surprise.”

Heather barely resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Babe, I appreciate your attention to detail—I do—but the whole point of this trip is that nothing’s gonna be just right. Whims are messy, and that’s the fun.”

“Done!” Valencia declares, unplugging her phone with a flourish and a smug smile. “Now can we please get a move on? One more second of planning, and we jump right from young and impulsive to boring old people.”

Heather shakes her head. “I’m gonna murder you.”

“Then you’ll have no one to split the drive with,” Valencia says, sliding past her out the door, rolling suitcase behind her.

Heather slaps her on the ass as she passes, then pauses to shut the lights off before racing after her.


	16. At the Beach – or the pirate and the rogue scholar AU pt. 3/3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final installment of this AU at last!

“Are you, like, ever gonna speak to me again?”

Valencia glances up from the sand she’s been desperately sifting through for the last hour to cock an eyebrow at Heather.

To her credit, Heather has also been on her hands and knees for the last hour. Still, Valencia’s not feeling particularly generous at the moment.

“Right,” Heather says. After a beat, she stands. “What did it even look like?”

Valencia lets out a noisy, angry sigh and sits back on her haunches.

“I’m gonna go into town,” Heather explains, her voice taking on an edge of annoyance for the first time. “I’ll ask the people I know if they’ve seen it passed around at the market or whatever, but I have to know what it looks like in order to do that.”

Valencia’s nostrils flare, but she stands and brushes her palms off on her borrowed shorts. Heather watches her expectantly until she heaves out a breath and says, “Fine! There’s a ring on the end of a gold chain. It’s a marquise diamond set into a gold band.”

Heather nods solemnly. “I’ll be back in a day or so.”

Valencia juts her chin out in acknowledgement but doesn’t meet Heather’s probing stare. She feels the absence of it like dense clouds moving in to obstruct sunlight, though.

She returns to digging.

###

“Holy crap!” Heather jumps when Valencia sits up eagerly in her cot. “It’s the middle of the night! You should be sleeping.”

“Did you find anything?”

Heather drops her satchel onto her desk and then leans against the wall, studying Valencia warily. “Are you talking to me again?”

Valencia crosses her arms over her chest. “Only to find out if you have my necklace.”

Heather ducks her head. “Talked to practically everyone I know,” she says. “No one recognized the description.”

Valencia’s heart sinks into her stomach—probably like her necklace sank to the bottom of the Pacific. Pathetically, tears spring to her eyes.

“Valencia, I’m—”

“Don’t,” she says harshly, dropping back against the thin mattress and curling up on her side.

She holds her breath until Heather leaves the room.

###

“I thought for sure you’d have left by now,” Heather says, joining Valencia at the edge of the beach early the next morning. She sits down on the sand, draws her knees into her chest, and offers Valencia the mug of tea she’s holding.

Valencia wonders idly if Heather made and painted the mug herself as she accepts it. If everything in her little hut has been brought into being by Heather’s own sure, steady hands.

Tears prick at her eyes again, but she closes them until the sensation fades.

“I don’t know where to go from here,” Valencia says honestly—because what’s the point of lying now, after she’s lost everything?

“Where we you going before?” Heather asks, her voice a tip-toe.

“California.”

“I meant more, like, metaphorically, but okay, um. What’s stopping you from still going?”

Valencia takes a sip if the tea and watches as the light from the rising sun dances across the ever-shifting surface of the ocean. “The ring belonged to the man I told you about yesterday.”

Heather rests her cheek on her knees and watches Valencia intently. “Okay.”

“Stealing it was supposed to be my last job ever, and selling it was supposed to keep me in lodging and food until I could find other work.” Valencia takes a deep breath in through her nose, holding the fresh, briny air in her lungs. “I’d _earned_ that poetic justice.”

Heather makes a doubtful noise in the back of her throat, and Valencia shoots her a sharp look.

“Sorry,” she says, “I just don’t think people can earn revenge.”

“He waited until every bit of our lives were entangled and then left me with nothing!”

“And that sounds like it sucked,” Heather says, dragging her finger through the sand between them. “I just don’t think the world should work like a zero-sum game.”

“How mature and evolved of you,” Valencia says.

Heather doesn’t so much as bat an eye at the venom in her voice, and for some reason, that takes the fight right out of her.

“Sorry,” she says, slumping and setting the tea down in the sand.

“It’s cool,” Heather says, and it sounds like she really means it.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you rescue me?”

Heather’s eyebrows come together. “When I saw someone had washed up on the beach, it never really occurred to me not to help them, you know?”

“No,” Valencia says, feeling like the last several years of her life are looming above her like an enormous wave, ready to crash down and swallow her up at any moment. “I don’t.”

The lapse into silence, sitting side by side as the sun climbs higher in the sky.

Heather’s the one to eventually break it. “Sounds like maybe you could still go. You know, to California.”

“Maybe,” Valencia says. “I had a…a partner who was supposed to meet me there, but I only just sent word for her yesterday. It could be weeks before I hear anything back.”

Heather nods and starts to push herself up to her feet. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need. It’s been kinda nice having someone around the house, honestly.”

“Thanks,” Valencia says, tilting her head up and squinting in the sun to look at Heather’s face. “I’ll probably take you up on that.”

Heather gives her a small smile before turning away. Valencia returns it a moment too late.

She’s not sure exactly how long she sits out there—watching the slow ebb and flow of the water and thinking about the funny ways a life is shaped—before it occurs to her that the shift in her chest is an anchor dropping, holding her to the first place that’s felt like home in too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and then Maya eventually finds them and h/v adopts her as their awkward twenty-something daughter and they slowly and steadily fall in love - in that order
> 
> The End!


	17. Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Obligatory link to the cat 'verse.](http://catty-words.tumblr.com/tagged/shadow-and-esperanza)

“Did someone order chicken soup?”

Heather backs into their room, lunch tray fully set up with a bowl of soup, crackers, a roll of paper towels, tall glass of water, and a slim vase filled with a handful of buttercups. Shadow, seeing her opportunity, darts inside and nearly trips Heather in the process.

“No,” Valencia groans, rolling over from her stomach onto her side.

Shadow immediately settles along the curve of Valencia, who reaches out and scratches the top of the cat’s head.

“I know, I know. You’re morally opposed to broth or whatever.”

Valencia grunts before tugging a tissue out of the box on her nightstand and pointedly blowing her nose.

“Well, consider this,” Heather says. “If you don’t try this soup that I made from scratch, I will cry.”

Valencia flips her hair back from her face so she can properly glare. The effect is a bit diminished by her chapped red nose and bloodshot eyes. In fact, she looks full-on pitiful—not that Heather’s gonna tell her that.

“I can’t taste anything anyway,” Valencia argues, her voice thick and nasal. Shadow stretches out her front paws until they rest in Valencia’s upturned palm, just shy of the tissue she’s still holding.

“Perfect,” Heather says. “Sit up.”

Valencia groans again. “No.”

“Babe, come on.” Heather fixes a stern expression on to her face. “You’re never gonna get better if you don’t eat and hydrate.”

“But my throat hurts.”

“Yeah, because you also refuse to take the Dayquil I got for you.”

“Swallowing is too hard.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Heather says, setting the tray down a little harsher than is advisable on their dresser. She crawls onto the bed over Valencia, jostling the cat out of its place.

“Hey!” Valencia protests.

“You’re Valencia freaking Perez!” Heather yells. “And you’re letting a stupid little cold keep you in bed when there’s shit to be done!”

“I don’t feel good,” Valencia says, pouting out her lower lip. The miserable expression almost breaks Heather’s resolve.

She shakes her head and continues. “It’s time to stop spiraling. You know what you need to do to feel better.”

Valencia’s pout turns into a disgusted frown.

“Come on,” Heather says, gently goading. “Let me take care of you.”

After a beat, Valencia rolls her eyes. “Ugh, fine.”

Heather’s already crawling off the bed to retrieve the tray. “That’s the spirit.”

When she turns back around, she finds that Valencia’s propped herself up on their mass of pillows. Heather smiles at her as she sets the tray in her lap.

“The flowers are a nice touch,” Valencia says, begrudgingly picking up the spoon.

“I know,” Heather says.

After a few spoonfuls of soup and a gulp of water, Valencia adds a meek, “Thank you.”

Heather kisses the top of her head and then bends over to scoop Shadow into her arms. “You’re a real pain in the ass when you’re sick, you know that?”

Valencia shrugs, but a grin tugs up the corners of her mouth.

“I know.”


	18. Right and Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A periodic reminder that Bethany is the best beta in the world for putting up with my last-minute ficlet completion. <3

“Have I always had seven fingers?” Heather asks, her voice muffled by the gauze in her mouth.

Valencia gently grabs her hand and lowers it from its position in front of her face. “You have five,” she says patiently. “Just like you’ve always had.”

“I think we should call doc,” Heather says, blinking slowly. “And make sure they just took my wisdom teeth—make sure they didn’t add anything while I was under.”

“Like a couple fingers to your hand,” Valencia says, raising her eyebrows.

“I think they made my gums bigger.”

“No,” Valencia says, “that’s just the gauze.”

“Oh,” Heather says, and then she reaches up to take it out.

Valencia grabs both of her wrists. “You can’t!”

Heather’s eyes go wide. “Because it’s actually just my gums?”

“No.” Valencia takes a deep breath in through her nose, not sure if she wants to laugh or berate herself for agreeing to babysit post-op Heather in the first place. But then she looks into Heather’s warm brown eyes and remembers why she let herself be roped into this. “The doctor told me to leave it in.”

“How do we know we can trust him?” Heather asks.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be talking this much. Doesn’t your jaw hurt?”

“Oh, I can’t feel anything.”

“Perfect.”

“Does your jaw hurt?”

“I didn’t have surgery,” Valencia says, letting her head fall against the back of the couch.

“Yeah, but you’re clenching it a lot.”

A snort of laughter escapes Valencia before she can stop it. “That’s true.”

“It’s okay, you look hot even when you’re angry,” Heather says matter-of-factly. “Maybe even especially then.”

Valencia lifts her head. “You think I’m hot?”

“Hot and cold. Sweet and sour. You’re soup.”

“Okay,” Valencia says. “No more painkiller metaphors for you. They’re just wrong.”

“But also right,” Heather says, her head lolling to the side so her hair brushes Valencia’s cheek.

Valencia feels her whole body flush. “How about I put on a movie for you to watch, ‘kay?”

“Are you gonna stay and watch it, too?”

“I kind of have to,” Valencia says. “You’re currently a danger to yourself.”

Heather nods somberly. “Humans weren’t meant to have enhanced gums. We’re not ready for that kind of power.”

Valencia rolls her eyes heavenward. “Oh, my god.”

Heather pokes her in the shoulder. “You know I’m right.”

“Absolutely not,” Valencia says, but she can’t keep herself from grinning.


	19. Rosé

“Aren’t you nervous?”

Heather glances up from her phone to see Valencia pouring herself a generous glass of rosé. “Whoa there,” she says. “Why not save some for the rest of us?”

“Seriously,” Valencia says, setting the bottle down roughly on her kitchen island. “How can you be all calm and casual right now?”

“I mean, probably because we’re telling our friends we’re dating, not skydiving out of a plane.”

Valencia winces and Heather gets up from the couch, pocketing her phone before walking over to her and grabbing both of Valencia’s shoulders.

“They love of us, V. You know they do.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I know. It might be weird. But even if it is for a bit, the weirdness won’t last forever. You know why?”

Valencia rolls her eyes to the ceiling and grumbles, “Because they love us.”

Heather kisses the tip of her nose. “Have a little faith, okay?”

“It’s just…” Valencia trails off, toying with one of the buttons on Heather’s flannel. “For the first time in a long time, it feels like the good things in my life outweigh the bad. Isn’t it stupid or—I don’t know—tempting fate to go messing with that?”

Heather watches her face for a moment, feeling her stomach tighten every second Valencia won’t meet her eye.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” Heather says softly. “We can keep waiting.”

Valencia scoffs, and Heather feels her shoulders relax. “What? And miss out on annoying Rebecca with how cute we are for another second? Yeah, right.”

“Yeah.” Heather grins. “We’re gonna be totally fine.”

###

“You’re probably wondering why I made a big deal about inviting you guys here,” Valencia says later, once they’ve polished off a bottle and a half of wine.

Paula pauses in her setup of Fancy Fairy Funhouse. “Oh, was that you making a big deal? You were totally coy, so it was super hard to tell.”

“Yeah,” Rebecca says, nudging Valencia with her elbow. “I always get scented invitations to casual Friday-night hangouts.”

Heather watches with worry as Valencia throws back the rest of the alcohol in her glass, and then blurts out, “V and I are dating!”

A beat of silence.

“Like, we make out a lot and we send each other a lot of emoji-based texts and sometimes I go to her yoga class just to spend some extra time with her kind of dating. Gay love and stuff.”

“Oh, my god,” Valencia says, reaching for the half-finished bottle of rosé.

“Yeah,” Paula says, “and?”

Heather shrugs. “We just wanted you guys to know.”

“Cool.” Paula passes Heather her pair of wings with a smile and then turns to Rebecca. “Pay up.”

“I don’t know why I took this bet,” Rebecca grumbles as she plucks her purse from the couch and shoves a twenty over at Paula. “I know you know everything, and yet I still think I can outsmart you somehow?”

“Yeah, you’re pretty dumb that way,” Paula says affectionately.

“Wait,” Valencia says. “You knew?”

“Suspected,” Paula corrects. “For months now.”

“Months? Heather and I only started seeing each other a few weeks ago?”

Paula shakes her head. “Why are all my friends so obtuse?”

“How did you know months ago?” Valencia asks again. “I only just realized I might like girls, and I’m still kinda freaking out about it!”

“Hey,” Heather says. “Let’s just call this a win, maybe? I mean, they’re not freaking out, so.”

“If you thought I might like girls, why didn’t you tell me?” Valencia demands.

“I think maybe it’s time to cut you off,” Rebecca says, grabbing the rosé bottle that’s still at Valencia’s side. “You’ve reached belligerent drunk territory.”

“I have not!” Valencia snaps at her, and Rebecca sets it back down so she can hold up her hands in surrender.

“I don’t know,” Paula says, divvying out the game tokens. “You guys were flirting all the time, and I thought it was intentional.”

Valencia eyes Paula suspiciously for a moment before bursting into tears.

“Okay, yup, she’s definitely reached her limit,” Heather says, nodding at Rebecca, who hands her the bottle. “Babe, you okay?”

“You guys,” Valencia wails. “You just know me so well, and I love you all so much.”

“Aww,” Paula and Rebecca coo in chorus.

“Bring it in,” Rebecca adds, throwing her arms open wide.

It takes a lot of shuffling, and Heather ends up with a plastic mushroom digging into her knee as she leans into the hug, but they still manage the moment with minimal damage.

“Can I please kick your asses at this board game now?” Paula asks.

“Please,” Valencia says, pulling away and swiping the tears off her cheeks.

Heather catches her eye from across the game board.

_You okay?_ she mouths.

Valencia smiles and blows her a kiss.

“Gross,” Rebecca says, rolling her eyes. “Keep it in your pants, Perez.”

Heather watches as Valencia’s smile widens.


	20. Longing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a tangential relationship to the prompt? In my ficlet? More likely than you think.

As Heather retrieves her coat from the back room, all she can think about is getting home and showering the stench of Home Base off in a long, Rebecca’s-visiting-her-mom-and-can’t-use-all-the-hot-water shower.

Her phone falls out of the pocket while she’s pushing her arms through the sleeves, and she notices a few texts in the squad’s group message.

Rebecca: _Just got off the flight! In New York and on the way to my mom’s house._

Heather shakes her head at the string of emojis Rebecca had sent after that.

The last message is from Valencia, and it simply says _good luck_.

Heather frowns, feeling something tug tight in her chest. All the way to her car, she flips her phone over and over in her hands, considering.

Once she’s all buckled, she lets a long sigh loose and opens a new text: _Wanna come over tonight? Will provide wine and face masks._

Valencia’s response is practically immediate: _yes please._

###

“…And that’s how I made the staff of the medical center at Michigan’s Adventure faint.”

“Wow,” Valencia says, tracing the raised skin on the inside of Heather’s forearm, summoning goosebumps that Heather hopes she doesn’t notice. “That was an intense scar story. You were right.”

“Yeah,” Heather agrees, taking a sip of wine before reaching for the bottle of black nail polish. “Now it’s your turn.”

“To tell you a scar story?” Valencia asks, her nose wrinkling.

“Any story. Entertain me while I paint you.”

Valencia _hmm_ s, but before she can launch into a tale or Heather can even start on the first nail, Valencia’s phone vibrates on the table.

She grabs for it immediately and lets out a longing sigh.

“Something wrong?” Heather asks.

Valencia wordlessly passes the phone over to reveal Josh’s Instagram and a picture of him and Rebecca.

“Oh, my god,” Heather says.

“I know,” Valencia says, forlorn.

“You set alerts for when Josh posts?”

Valencia snatches her phone out of Heather’s hands. “No.”

“You didn’t,” Heather says, raising her eyebrows.

“It’s not about me not being over him,” Valencia says, not looking Heather in the eye. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I mean, I was mostly thinking that’s a bummer thing to do to yourself—doesn’t matter if you’re over him or not.”

Valencia frowns. “I miss…the certainty. From when I was with him.”

Heather nods. “That makes sense.”

“It does?”

Heather smiles when Valencia’s hopeful eyes find hers. “Totally.”

She exhales. “Wow. Thank you.”

Heather shrugs. “You don’t have to thank me—your reaction is valid no matter what I say about it.”

Valencia laughs. “No, I just…I guess I’ve been bottling some stuff up. Feels good to, I don’t know, admit it in a safe space or whatever.”

“Well,” Heather says, swirling the polish brush around in the bottle. “I’m here whenever you need me.”

“Not just when Rebecca’s out of town?”

Heather frowns to herself, briefly entertaining the idea of telling Valencia all about the evening she’d planned for herself and why she’d suddenly abandoned it.

Instead, she licks her lips and says, “Especially when Rebecca’s home. I’ll take any excuse I can get to exit the delusion bubble.”

Valencia grins at her. “You do me a favor, I do you a favor. A beautiful foundation for a friendship.”

Heather’s tries not to pay the squeeze her heart gives too much mind.

“I’ll drink to that,” she says, holding up her glass of wine.

Valencia clinks hers against it.


	21. Basic - or the college AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get it? 'Cause 'basic' is a Thing with them, but this is a play on its meaning in canon? Tell me I'm clever!

“Before you head over to the lab—” Valencia’s chemistry professor pauses in erasing the whiteboard to address the class. “Please come stop by the front of the room and see your partner assignments.”

Not in any rush, Valencia finishes typing out a text to her little sister before shoving her mostly-untouched notebook into her large handbag.

When the crowd at the front thins a little, she gets out of her seat, noticing a girl a couple rows back—the only person who hasn’t moved since class ended—examining her nails with a bored expression.

The multi-colored streaks in the girl’s hair make Valencia roll her eyes. If only she could have afforded the tuition at a state school. Then she wouldn’t be stuck here with all the community college weirdos.

Once she finally makes her way up to the lab assignments, Valencia pauses just long enough to write her partner’s name and their assigned station—Heather Davis, table 8—on her hand before following after the other students herding toward the next classroom.

###

The lab’s fluorescent lights are even more offensive than most on campus. Valencia finds herself squinting when she walks into the room.

She finds her station toward the back and drops her purse unceremoniously on the table before pulling her phone back out. Elena hasn’t texted her back yet.

She also hasn’t heard from Josh, who’s attending UCLA. Then again, it’s been several days since he checked in. Valencia opens a new message and bites her lip. After a second of consideration, though, she feels her stomach tighten with dread. If he wants to talk to her, he knows how to get in touch.

She shoves her phone back into her bag just as the TA breezes into the classroom and starts passing around instructions for their first lab.

Valencia takes two packets from the stack, glancing over at the empty spot at her table with a frown.

A moment later, the TA’s starting in on lab safety procedures and where to find all the equipment, and Valencia’s lab partner still hasn’t shown up. She flips through the instructions, feeling a flush work its way up her neck.

She really should have put her gen-ed science credit off until next semester.

In fact, she’s seriously considering how likely the TA is to ask questions if she just walks out now when the hair-streak girl slouches into the room, takes a bored look around, and then heads right for Valencia.

Hyperaware of the other students’ eyes, Valencia keeps her gaze fixed on the tabletop. When the girl reaches their station, she lets her backpack fall to the ground and then leans over the table, resting her forearms on the smooth black surface.

“Here,” Valencia says, shoving the extra packet over to her partner—Heather.

“Thanks,” she says, ignoring the TA in favor of getting to work on the pre-lab questions on the first page.

“I think this is important,” Valencia says, leaning in so she can speak softly. Heather smells better than Valencia had expected she would. More lavender, less patchouli.

“Yeah,” Heather agrees without looking over. “But I’ve taken a couple labs here already, and you hear one speech about the eyewash station, you’ve heard them all.”

Valencia looks more closely at her lab partner. She doesn’t seem that much older than Valencia…she wonders how long she’s been at college.

“You should probably pay attention,” Heather says, startling Valencia. “This is important.”

Flushing and effectively rebuked, Valencia turns her attention back to the TA.

She feels a smile playing on her lips, though.

###

“This cabbage juice smells foul.”

“You’re not supposed to smell it,” Heather says. “Or, like, anything we make here. Wafting only.”

“Wafting?”

“Yeah,” Heather says, eyeing her curiously and then holding her hand out of for the beaker. “Here. Let me demonstrate.”

“I see how that might be safer,” Valencia says, nodding as Heather shows her proper form.

Heather hums in agreement. “Did you not take, like, any high-school science classes?”

Valencia frowns and shifts her eyes back to the paper, shading in the circles of the 8 in the middle of the page with her pencil. “School’s not really my thing.”

“Ah,” Heather says, carefully pouring some detergent, lemon juice, and vinegar into separate test tubes. “Well, according to my parents, school’s kinda my only thing. They’re constantly stressing about me becoming a perpetual student.”

“Sounds lame,” Valencia says, watching the way Heather’s bracelets slide up and down her forearm as she works.

“I mean, yeah, but,” Heather sets the lemon juice test tube in the rack. “They’re probably right. Can you pour that into a couple different beakers?”

Valencia has to go to the supply closet, and when she gets back, Heather’s more or less finished setting up for their first experiment.

“We’re just gonna mix each of these with the cabbage juice and wait to see what color it changes,” she explains to Valencia, who’d normally bristle at that kind of hand-holding. Heather’s voice remains even and kind, though.

“Okay,” Valencia says, measuring out the cabbage juice into the beakers she’d retrieved.

Heather pours in the solutions she’d measured out, and then they both take a step back to watch.

“Looks like we have a couple acids,” Heather says, pointing to the darkening red of the lemon juice.

They both mark down the results on their lab packet.

“So what’s with the hair?” Valencia asks.

Heather turns to her, eyebrows raised.

“No, it’s just, um…colorful.”

“That’s the point,” Heather says.

“Right.”

“What’s with the judgement?”

“I wasn’t—”

Heather narrows her eyes.

“You just seem more normal than I expected based on…”

“Oh wow,” Heather says. “You’re doing a great job of convincing me you weren’t judging.”

Valencia shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I was just—”

“Let’s focus on the experiment, okay?”

“Okay,” Valencia agrees, feeling her chest tighten uncomfortably. “Sure.”

“The detergent isn’t really changing color,” Heather says, nodding at the beaker, “but I know it’s a base, so. I’m marking it down.”

“How do you know?” Valencia says sharply.

“This is a beginners’ experiment,” Heather says. “The TA’s really not trying to blow anyone’s mind here.”

“You are a know-it-all,” Valencia accuses.

“And you’re kinda snobby,” Heather shoots back, sounding totally unbothered.

Valencia harrumphs, but keeps her eyes on the detergent beaker, willing it to turn pink and prove Heather wrong. When there’s still no reaction, she grabs a stirring rod.

“Maybe it needs a little help,” she says, stirring the solution.

“You’re doing it too hard,” Heather says, reaching for Valencia’s hand. “It’s glass, and it breaks easily.”

When Heather’s fingers come in contact with Valencia’s wrist, it’s as if an electric shock shoots up her arm. Valencia jerks, knocking the lemon juice beaker off the table and sending it crashing against the ground.

Everyone’s heads whip around to look at them.

“Told you,” Heather says, laughter making her tone airy.

With a huff, Valencia goes to collect the broom and dustpan. Hopefully it doesn’t cost too much to replace a single beaker.

“Look at that,” Heather says when she gets back. “Detergent is a basic solution.”

Valencia stares as the cabbage juice starts to turn a murky green.

“Yeah, well, I was right about it needing to be stirred.”

Heather quirks an eyebrow at Valencia, but there’s a hint of a grin on her lips.

“We should really clean this up,” she says eventually, nodding at the mess at their feet.

Valencia crouches down next to Heather, refusing to voice her gratitude but thankful all the same.

Perhaps community college won’t be as dull as she’d initially thought.


	22. Lie - or the females helping females (for the greater good) AU

“C’mon, sweetie, let me get you a drink. Just one drink. Prove you’re not an uptight bitch.”

Heather feels the back of her neck prickle as her eyes are drawn from the bar’s menu—written sloppily across two blackboards and mounted from the ceiling—to where a woman in a fitted black jacket is leaning back in her seat, frowning at the meathead harassing her.

“Hard to disprove something that’s true,” the woman says in a snide voice, but Heather can tell from her stiff body language that she’s feeling anything but flippant.

“Oh, come on,” the asshole continues. “I bet I could help you loosen up.”

“Pass.”

“I saw your friend leave. I’m just trying to keep you company.”

Protective instinct fully activated, Heather stomps over and forces herself between the woman and the asshole without a second thought, wrapping the former in a hug.

The woman jolts under her touch, clearly confused.

“Follow my lead,” Heather whispers in her ear, though she’s not sure if the woman hears over the din of idle conversation and the music playing on the speakers. When she pulls away, she gives the woman a bright smile. “There you are. Sorry I’m late—I hit so much traffic.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the woman says, sounding a little unsure.

“You really know how to pick ‘em, huh? Next time _I’m_ choosing the bar.” The woman cocks an eyebrow at Heather, but a smile starts to warm her sharp features. “So,” Heather keeps going, nodding at the asshole, “you gonna introduce me to your friend?”

“I’m Rick,” the guy says gruffly. “Who are you?”

“This is my girlfriend, actually,” the woman says suddenly and forcefully, leaning in to wrap her arms around Heather’s shoulders.

“Lesbians,” Rick says, looking like he can’t believe his luck. “That means if I buy you both enough drinks, you’ll make out, right?”

Heather suppresses a gag long enough to answer. “More like it means we couldn’t care less about when or how or why you get off.”

Rick’s mouth gapes a little and his eyes bulge with confusion, making him look kinda like a goldfish. “Does that mean you’ll do it, or…?”

The woman scoffs, and Heather pats her on the arm. “You wanna get out of here, hon?”

“Please,” the woman says, sliding off the stool.

“Oh, my god, thank you,” the woman says as soon as they’re out on the street, clutching her hand to her chest. “I think you might have literally saved my life back there.”

“What are girlfriends for?” Heather asks, raising her eyebrows.

The woman winces. “I panicked. Sorry.”

“It’s no big deal,” Heather says, and they share a tentative smile. “I’m Heather, by the way.”

“Valencia.”

“Well, nice to date you, and then meet you, Valencia,” Heather says, nudging her lightly with her shoulder.

“Likewise,” Valencia says, color rising in her cheeks.

“Can I walk you somewhere safe?” Heather asks after a beat of uncertainty. “Or, like, wait until you get an Uber here or something?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to,” Valencia says, waving her hand. “You’ve already done so much.”

“I know I don’t have to,” Heather says, “but I’m offering.”

Valencia hesitates.

“If it helps make up your mind, I know archery.”

“Really?” Valencia’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead. “And how will that help us here in the middle of town?”

“I’m not saying I’d use archery specifically to take a man down, but my arms are very strong.”

Valencia’s eyes slide down as she gives Heather the once over. Finally, she says, “I live in a building a couple blocks from here.”

Heather grins. “Lead the way.”


	23. Phone Call

Heather’s crawling into bed—trying not to think about the fact that she saw Trent make his way into Rebecca’s room—when her phone starts vibrating on her nightstand.

She answers upon seeing Valencia’s name on the caller ID.

“You have good timing,” she says in lieu of greeting.

“I do?” Valencia asks, sounding pleased.

Heather feels her lips twitch with the hint of a smile in response. “You do. What’s up?”

Valencia makes a little coughing noise on the other end of the line. “I don’t know. I just got home.”

“All safe and sound?” Heather asks.

“Yup. No bathroom ceilings fell on me the whole trip.”

“Imagine that,” Heather says with a huff of a laugh.

“So, I wanted to thank you.”

“Me?” Heather asks, tugging her comforter up over her face and then curling up on her side, pressing her phone between her cheek and her pillow. “Why?”

“I had a great time tonight,” Valencia says, her voice soft. Heather closes her eyes.

“You did?” she asks, deadpan but just as softly.

Valencia laughs, and Heather draws in a deep breath. “As unlikely as it sounds, yeah. I really, really love hanging out with you guys.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Heather says, and she thinks she catches Valencia exhaling in relief.

“Okay, well. Good.”

“Mm-hmm.”

A beat.

“Are you in bed?”

“Yeah,” Heather says over a stifled yawn.

“Me too,” Valencia says.

“Well, goodnight,” Heather says, feeling her cheeks flush for some reason.

“Goodnight,” Valencia says. Then, just when Heather’s about to pull her phone away from her ear and hang up, she adds, “Hey, wait.”

“Yeah, I’m still here.”

“Would you maybe want to get coffee tomorrow morning? Do some yoga?”

“Sure,” Heather agrees easily. “What time? And keep in mind, it might take me a full hour to get Rebecca out of bed.”

“Yeah,” Valencia says, her voice quavering ever-so-slightly. “That’s why I thought it could be, y’know, just us. ‘Cause it’d be easier for everyone.”

Heather takes a second before answering, suddenly filled with far too much squirmy energy for bedtime.

“Cool,” she says finally. “When should I meet you?”

“Is six-thirty too early?”

“No, I’ll set my alarm now.”

“Okay.”

“Cool,” Heather says again.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then,” Valencia says, and Heather can hear the smile in her voice. She flexes her toes and stretches her legs. It does little to mitigate her swell of restlessness.

“You will,” Heather says. “Sweet dreams.”

“You too,” Valencia says, and then hangs up.

After sitting sill for a moment, Heather sets an alarm and then plugs her phone into its charger.

It feels like it takes forever for her to feel tired enough for sleep, but when she wakes in the morning, she still feels rejuvenated.


	24. Instrumental

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rare angst ficlet appears!
> 
> Also, I must thank Bethany once again for more-or-less being at my disposal for editing needs this month. You are my hero. <3

_“Um, what are you doing out here?” Valencia asks, moving a quiver of practice arrows to the ground so she can join Heather in the backseat of her car._

_Heather pulls herself from her contemplation of the abyss in time to watch Valencia shift her yoga mat to lean against the center console._

_“I don’t really…know,” Heather says after a moment of consideration. It’s not entirely true, but she can’t bring herself to articulate the reason. That’d mean she’d have to deal with it head-on, and she’s kind of taking a vacation from doing that, currently._

_“Okay,” Valencia says, sounding like she understands anyway. Probably because she has the same reason for showing up at Heather’s house unannounced. “How was breakfast with Hector?”_

_“Right,” Heather says. Hector. She hasn’t thought about him since Paula called with the latest update. “It was fun, I guess.”_

_“Weird,” Valencia says, “but good for you.”_

_Heather nearly cracks a smile when Valencia actually curls her lip at the thought of him._

_But then she adds, “I have no idea what it’d take for something to feel fun to me right now.”_

_The urge to smile is quashed entirely._

_“Yeah,” Heather agrees, and Valencia leans into her, resting her head on Valencia’s shoulder._

###

“Is this shirt yours?” Heather asks, holding up the red tank top she doesn’t recognize.

“Yeah,” Valencia says, holding out her hand. Heather balls the shirt up and tosses it across the room.

“Kinda wild this is happening,” Heather says, pulling out the boxes at the back of her closet.

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it keeps hitting me.”

“I don’t think it’s really caught up with me yet,” Valencia says, setting the now-folded top in her pile. “That I’m moving across the country. I mean, I’ve only ever lived here my whole life, and that’s about to change.”

“Yeah, but look at the last two years of your life. You’re a pro at dealing with change by now.”

Valencia rolls her eyes, but Heather knows that means she’s flattered by the compliment.

She smiles to herself as she goes back to cleaning out and organizing the contents of her closet.

They work in companionable silence for a while, Heather’s phone softly playing music.

“Y’know, it’s kinda weird you never actually lived here,” Heather says, noticing a pair of Valencia’s shorts on the floor. “So much of your stuff ended up here, anyway.”

Valencia opens her mouth to say something, but then the opening notes of a certain song float out of the tiny speakers on Heather’s phone and they both fall silent.

###

“ _What is this music?” Valencia asks, her distaste evident even if her voice is feather-light._

_Heather snorts with amusement and then sobers all within the span of a second. “Rebecca made me a Sapphic playlist when she found out I’m bi.”_

_She feels Valencia stiffen against her and then relax again a moment later. “That’s such a Rebecca thing to do.”_

_“I know.”_

_After a pause, Valencia asks, “Do you really think she’s not coming back?”_

_Heather sighs, feeling Valencia nestle a little closer. “So much has happened in the last forty-eight hours. I have no idea what to expect.”_

_One of the more somber tracks on the CD fills the car, and they both fall silent._

###

When their eyes lock, Heather knows Valencia’s remembering it, too.

“I actually bought this album,” Valencia says. “After…”

Heather’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead. “Really?”

Valencia licks her lips and shifts her eyes down to the t-shirt in her hands. “Mm-hmm. I mean, not immediately after. I sort of freaked out immediately after.”

“You don’t say?” Heather says, working a little harder than normal to keep her voice light and teasing.

Valencia points at her. “Oh come on, _that’s_ not fair.”

“I don’t know, I think I’m entitled to be a little upset about how things played out.”

“No,” Valencia insists, practically stomping her foot. “You had Hector. You _still_ have Hector.”

Heather swallows hard. “Granted.”

Valencia’s eyes narrow. “But?”

A small smile tugs on the corners of Heather’s mouth. “But,” she says, “That doesn’t mean I didn’t, like, think about what happened and wish things had gone a little differently.”

Heather watches Valencia thaw, watches the warmth fight its way back into her expression. “Differently how?”

Heather’s still smiling, but there’s an edge of bitterness to her voice when she asks, “Do you really think it’s a good idea to do this now?”

Valencia blinks and then picks up another shirt to fold. “No, you’re right. We should just…leave it.”

“Finished unfinished business,” Heather says.

Valencia laughs at her joke, but it’s a little wooden.

The song ends.

###

_“Heather?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“You’re not going anywhere, right?”_

_“Nah. You’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future.”_

_Valencia lifts her chin, her nose dragging along Heather’s jaw. She feels her heart jump, timed perfectly to the song._

_“Heather?”_

_Her mouth feels dry as she answers, “Yeah?”_

_When Valencia doesn’t say anything for a moment, Heather turns her head. Her cheek slides against Valencia’s, land masses shifting in a tender, disastrous earthquake._

_“I’m not going anywhere,” Heather says without volume, and when Valencia inhales, she feels like she’s drawing breath from deep inside her own chest._

_Heather closes her eyes and waits, leaving this, too, up to chance._


	25. Pet Name - or the coffee shop AU

Valencia finishes typing out a message to her mother— _I can’t today, I have plans_ —as she strides up the walkway to Percolatin’ Paula’s. She absentmindedly thanks the person who holds the door open for her, and she keeps all her attention trained on her phone as she steps into line.

It’s not until she’s confirmed (for the fourth time that morning) the time and location of the meeting with her potential client that she glances up and takes in her surroundings.

The first thing she notices is all the pink. Pink drapes in the windows. Pink tabletops. Pink shelves displaying pink mugs and pink bags of specialty coffee.

The next thing she notices is Josh freaking Chan.

“Crap,” Valencia mutters to herself. “Crap, crap, crap.”

She vaguely remembers something about him moving to El Segundo with his annoyingly cheerful friend Hector, so it just figures that the one day she needs to be in this town, they’d run into each other.

“What can I get for you?” the barista with pink streaks in her hair—Valencia wonders idly if it’s an accident that she matches the rest of the café or a marketing technique—asks her when she steps up to the counter, looking like she’s had a more engaging time watching paint dry.

“A small chai latte with soy,” Valencia says, sparing a glance back at Josh.

It looks like he might be on a date with a girl. So maybe the universe hasn’t completely turned on her. Josh’s attention doesn’t stray during the first few dates.

“Can I get a name for the order?”

“Um,” Valencia hesitates.

The barista—her name tag reads Heather—suddenly looks more interested. “What? You don’t know your name?”

Valencia raises her eyebrows.

“Is it, like, boating-accident–related amnesia? You look like you know how to boat. Or at the very least, like you own boating shoes.”

“Are you a corporate spy?” the other girl behind the counter asks. “Or maybe you’re from the health department.”

Valencia gapes at the two of them. “What?”

“Don’t even try to pull one over on us,” the other girl—Rebecca, Valencia strains to read her uneven handwriting—says. “I’ve memorized the codes.”

“My ex-boyfriend is here,” Valencia says honestly just to get the guessing game to stop.

“So that’s a no to the spying, but we’re definitely in a codename situation here,” Heather says, writing something on the cup. “I got you, girl.”

She passes it to Rebecca, who snorts. “I’d say this is more pet name than codename.”

Valencia starts to move down the line, taking great care not to reveal her face to Josh, but she still hears Heather’s response.

“Well it’s your fault for playing the first act of Rent on repeat this morning.”

She feels herself smile despite not knowing much more than the fact that Rent is a musical, and then starts to mentally go over her pitch again.

Heather’s voice breaks into her rehearsal just a minute later. “I’ve got a soy chai latte for Pookie.”

Valencia feels herself blush as she steps up to the counter to grab her drink. “Very covert.”

“Don’t forget to leave a Yelp review about your excellent service,” Heather says with mock cheeriness.

Valencia rolls her eyes but makes a mental note to do just that.

When she reaches the door, she hears Heather calling, “Have a nice day, Pookie!” after her.

She grins all the way to her car.


	26. Interruptions

Heather trails her fingers up and down the inside of Valencia’s thigh, smiling into their kiss when it makes Valencia twitch.

“Why are you always such a tease?” she asks, her voice quivering on the last word.

“Because it’s fun to watch you squirm,” Heather answers immediately, dragging her fingers down the other thigh.

“You know what really makes me squirm?” Valencia asks after letting Heather have a moment longer of her fun. “When you—”

“Hey, guys,” Rebecca says, bursting into the room. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Heather jumps, snatching her hand away and rolling onto her back at the same time Valencia growls.

“Actually—” Heather starts to say.

“I just got back from a session with Dr. Akopian,” Rebecca goes on as if Heather hadn’t spoken. She walks around the bed and slides under the covers, forcing Heather to crowd closer to Valencia, who’s shooting Rebecca narrow-eyed daggers. “She thinks I should address my boundary issues with all my friends, but that’s ridiculous, right guys? You love my impromptu snuggle sessions and my Sharing is Caring policy on borrowing, don’t you?”

Rebecca blinks at them with her blue eyes wide and pleading.

“We could have been naked under here, you realize that, right?” Heather asks.

Rebecca waves that away. “I don’t care.”

“Um, _I_ care,” Valencia says. “And I’ve sat through your little consent lectures too many times not to point out the hypocrisy.”

“You always walk away in the middle of those,” Rebecca says with a pout.

“Fine, I’ve half-sat through too many of your little consent lectures. Happy?”

“Thank you,” Rebecca says, nestling further under the covers.

Heather stares at her, nostrils flared, until Rebecca notices.

“What?” she asks.

“Girl, get the hell out of my bed,” Heather says, planting her foot against Rebecca’s thigh and pushing.

Rebecca, clearly caught off guard, doesn’t have time to find leverage. So she falls into a heap on the floor.

“So that’s a no on the boundary issues though, right?”

“Oh, my god, get out,” Heather says, throwing a pillow in Rebecca’s face so she won’t see that she’s laughing.

“I just want to be able to tell Dr. Akopian I did my homework,” Rebecca says, getting to her feet and tossing the pillow back on the bed. “So…we’re good?”

“No,” Valencia says.

Noticing Rebecca’s frown, Heather adds, “We’ll come out in a minute to talk for real, but first you have to _leave_.”

Rebecca flashes them the world’s most melancholy thumbs up before leaving the room.

Heather deflates, her head landing on Valencia’s stomach. “Guess the moment’s kinda ruined, huh?”

“Um, yeah,” Valencia says in her signature _duh_ tone.

“Bummer.”

Valencia eases herself out from under Heather and starts to tug on her pants. “That’s what you get for being such a tease.”

“Oh, right, like you would have preferred it if Rebecca had walked in on us with my fingers inside you.”

Valencia actually pauses, considering.

Heather rolls her eyes. “Why is it that I love the stubborn ones?”

“Are you saying you love me?” Rebecca’s voice floats into the room from just outside the closed door.

“Rebecca!” Valencia screeches, stomping for the door.

Heather listens as something thuds against the wall and then a sharp _smack_ echoes through the house.

She smiles to herself before going to make sure Rebecca’s still alive.


	27. Quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this house we love and respect the Rebecca + h/v dynamic

The first time Heather feels Valencia’s foot bump into her own, she assumes it’s an accident. Their kitchen table is kinda small, after all. When they’re all sitting there together, feet get knocked and ankles gets get scuffed.

So Heather returns her attention to her coding homework.

Just a moment later, though, she feels Valencia’s toes prodding at the fabric of her Converse sneakers.

Heather lifts her head, brow furrowed, and shoots a questioning look at Valencia. “What’s—”

Valencia presses a finger to her pursed lips, though— _shh_ —and then tilts her head pointedly at Rebecca.

But Rebecca doesn’t even look up from her own laptop when she asks, “What’s up? Something wrong?”

Still looking quizzically at Valencia, Heather says, “Just some confusingly worded instructions. No big.”

Rebecca grunts her sympathy at the same time Valencia flashes Heather a coy grin. Then her eyes trail back down to the magazine she’s been flipping through.

Heather jerks her head back in an ‘okaaaaay sure’ kind of gesture and refocuses.

Seconds later, Valencia kicks her.

Her foot catches Heather’s ankle at just the wrong angle, and Heather lets out an involuntary little _oof_.

Both she and Valencia sneak covert glances at Rebecca, who’s reading over the brief she’s working on, mouthing the words to herself and totally in the zone.

Since they’re in the clear, Heather uses the opportunity to kick out at Valencia this time, catching her in the bare shin with the heel of her shoe.

“Ow,” Valencia says, flashing wounded eyes at Heather, who shrugs, only kind of apologetic.

Rebecca’s head snaps up. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Just over-sympathetic to these hair-removal horror stories,” Valencia says, gesturing to her magazine.

Rebecca clucks her tongue. “I keep telling you, a simple trim every now and again is perfectly—”

“Oh-kay,” Heather cuts in. “We already know enough about your grooming habits, believe me.”

Rebecca sticks out her tongue. “Well excuse me for trying to save you from the insidious grasp of the patriarchy.”

“You’re excused,” Valencia tells her.

Heather smirks down at her keyboard.

Her eyes are still averted when she feels Valencia’s foot very carefully hook around her ankle. In response, Heather rubs her ankle against Valencia’s.

When she looks up at Valencia from under her eyelashes, she sees a grin forming on her lips.

“Ah,” Rebecca says, picking up her phone and reading a text. “Looks like it’s time to meet Paula to work on the Josh lawsuit.”

“Good luck,” Heather says, keeping her eyes trained on her computer’s screen.

“Have fun,” Valencia says.

“Enjoy your footsie,” Rebecca says as she packs up.

Heather and Valencia disentangle from each other instantly, using so much force that Heather nearly rocks herself out of her chair.

“Yeah,” Rebecca says, raising her eyebrows at them. “You guys are not subtle.”

“Whatever,” Valencia says, rolling her eyes.

“Plus, I went to Harvard. I’m smarter than this and I’m a little hurt that you think I’m not.”

“Oh, my god,” Heather says, “Just leave.”

With an offensive hand gesture, she does as she’s told. But when she reaches the door, Rebecca pauses to blow them both a kiss.

They return them without hesitation.


	28. Advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million more thank yous go out to Bethany for all her help this month, and to all the people who read this -- be it one ficlet or the whole collection.  
> I FUCKIN DID IT

“Do you ever think about what character traits an author would give to you if you were a character in a story?”

Valencia turns her head, feeling the creases in the bedspread ripple like waves as she moves, to watch Heather stare intently at the ceiling of her room.

“How high are you?” she asks after a long moment. “On a scale of one to ten.”

“Probably like a six,” Heather says after a moment of consideration, propping herself up on her elbow so she can retrieve the joint on the nightstand. “And going up.”

Valencia squints at her and Heather returns her stare, crossing her eyes and making Valencia’s nose wrinkle with distaste.

“Stop that,” she says, shoving Heather’s shoulder.

“I’m serious, though,” Heather says, passing on the joint after taking a hit. Valencia drags herself up against the pillows to accept it and grab the ashtray. “Do you?”

“Do I wonder how someone would write me as a character in a story?” Valencia repeats, deadpan.

“Yeah.”

“Not even when I’m blazed,” Valencia says, holding the joint up as if to toast Heather before holding it to her lips and inhaling.

After setting it aside, though, she notices Heather’s thoughtful frown.

“What’s this about?” she asks, reaching over to smooth her thumb along the worried creases in Heather’s forehead before cupping her cheek.

Heather leans into her touch. “Do I have to have a reason?”

“I guess not.”

Heather nods and then presses a kiss into Valencia’s wrist.

Valencia gulps, opens her mouth to say something, and then purses her lips closed.

“What?” Heather asks, watching her.

“I…well. Should I be worried that you’re trying to look at your life like you’re not an active participant?”

Heather’s eyes widen with understanding and Valencia wonders, not for the first time, how it’s possible that she’s the only person in the world that can snatch Valencia’s thoughts right out of her brain. It’s like they’re tuned in to exactly the same radio frequency.

“I’m not suicidal, V.”

“But you’d tell me if you were?”

“I mean, yeah, actually. I probably would.”

Valencia smiles a somber smile.

“This is more like—” Heather pauses, sliding back down on the bed. Once she’s situated, Valencia curls against her side, head resting on her sternum, arm flung across her waist, and leg hitched across her hips. “Like, an endless loop of uncertainty. Can we ever really objectively know ourselves? Can other people? Does that mean we only half-exist, if we can only be half-known?”

Valencia squeezes her eyes shut. “Slow down there, Postmodern Descartes.”

Heather snorts. “That was good.”

“Thanks. I’ve been reading your Intro to Philosophy anthologies.”

“And?”

“And I think I resent every philosopher that’s ever lived.”

Heather turns her face into Valencia, burying her nose in her hair. “Why’s that?”

“It’s like, what’s the point of asking questions if you can never find an answer? Sounds like a big waste of time to me.”

Valencia can feel Heather smiling against her scalp and shivers at the sensation.

“Well that’s just a flawed approach to the subject material.”

Valencia tilts her chin up to glare at Heather. “Bite me.”

Waggling her eyebrows, Heather nips at Valencia’s nose. Valencia plants a hand on her face and shoves it in the opposite direction.

Heather laughs. “Okay. Hear me out.”

“Okay,” Valencia agrees easily.

“The questions exist whether we ask them or not—they’re inherent to humanity and, like, consciousness. So the value isn’t in answering them. It’s in parsing out all the ways we _could_.”

Valencia groans, and that makes Heather laugh again.

“So it’s all an endless loop of uncertainty,” Valencia concludes.

“Yeah,” Heather says, her voice light. “I guess you could say that.”

“And that excites you,” Valencia says.

“Sometimes.”

“Likes to stare down the void.”

“What?”

“That’s one of your character traits,” Valencia says. “You like to stare down the barrel of humanity and ask it to pull the trigger.”

Heather kisses the top of Valencia’s head. “So I’m a rebel, huh?”

“A straight-shooting punk with every care in the world, but you’d never know it because you’re totally unflappable.”

Heather’s arm tightens around Valencia. “I can live with that intro. I kinda dig it, actually.”

“So I helped?” Valencia asks.

“Always,” Heather says.

They’re silent for a long moment.

Valencia’s the one to break it. “You’re gonna figure out what you want to do after graduation,” she says. “Because you don’t even have to narrow it down to one thing. We’re in our twenties. We’ve got plenty of time to explore what life has to offer.”

Heather cranes her neck so she can look down at Valencia in wonder. “How did you…?”

“You’re not as unknowable as you think you are.”

Heather grins, her eyes gleaming with an emotion so intense Valencia finds she has to lean up and kiss her.

“Besides,” Valencia says when she pulls away. “That’s, like, the only thing that’s been on your mind for the last month.”

“Should we add ‘preoccupied’ to my list of character traits?” Heather asks, looking abashed.

“We can,” Valencia concedes, shifting her weight to straddle Heather’s hips. “Right under ‘cute’.”

“Alright. And where do we put ‘skilled with her tongue’ on the list?”

Valencia rolls her eyes. “Shut up.”

But then she leans down to kiss Heather, and that becomes a non-issue.


End file.
